


klaine advent drabble challenge 2019

by Pterodactyl



Category: Glee
Genre: Klaine Advent 2019, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:41:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 23,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21636802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pterodactyl/pseuds/Pterodactyl
Summary: all of the fic written for the klaine advent drabble challenge 2019! to be updated daily (let's hope) until complete.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 74
Kudos: 81
Collections: Klaine Advent 2019





	1. achievement

**Author's Note:**

> SO I'M DOING SOMETHING DIFFERENT THIS YEAR! i'm writing everything within an AU based off the bon appetit test kitchen and vogue offices being in the same building. this au was conceptualised by natalie @glennrhovia and jules @homoaesthetics on twitter and i'm simply repaying them for their service.

Blaine’s running _very_ late, which is unusual for him, especially on a day like today with so much at stake. It’s his first day as a senior food editor with _Bon Appétit_ and he knows full well it’s not exactly going to make a great impression if he shows up thirty-five minutes late with Starbucks. As he squeezes through the crowds of tourists, clutching his KeepCup and trying to catch his breath after his sprint from the subway station, the sight of a set of elevator doors closing gives him just enough energy to put on one last burst of speed and slip through before they shut completely.

He’s so busy congratulating himself on his achievement that he doesn’t notice the person standing in front of the doors until he collides bodily with him. It’s only thanks to the poor man catching Blaine by the elbows that stops him falling face-first onto the elevator floor, at the cost of the folder of papers in the arms of the unfortunate stranger.

“Oh my goodness,” Blaine says breathlessly, “Thank you, I’m so sorry, I -”

His words trail off as he looks up at the man holding him up by the biceps, an equally as startled expression on his face. Blaine is immediately struck by how _beautiful_ he is, with high cheekbones and perfectly styled chestnut hair. He stutters and stammers out a series of apologies, still clutching his coffee tight, until the beautiful stranger looks down and blurts “Oh shit.”

Blaine looks down as well and his stomach sinks as he notices the glossy photos scattered all over the floor. The man drops to his knees swiftly and begins to collect them, muttering under his breath faintly. Blaine does the same, beginning to apologise again, but then the door of the elevator opens and the man sweeps all of them into his arms with a hurried “It’s fine,” and heads out at a brisk walk. Blaine just manages to see the golden panelling and black lettering of the Vogue offices and hear someone say “Hey, Kurt!” before the doors shut and he’s left clutching his coffee, his words dying on his lips.

He wants to follow the man and apologise, but he’s not actually sure if his I.D. badge will let him get through into the Vogue offices - and finding him is a whole other question. So, instead, he hits the button for his floor and tells himself it’s really not that big a deal.

Unfortunately, he can’t bring himself to believe it. He agonises over the interaction all day while trying to perfect a pumpkin caramel cookie for their October issue, and Tina catches him staring miserably out of the window while filming Wes’ video on every way to cook bacon and laughs at him for a solid minute before he notices. Although he makes her promise not to put it in the final product, he’s almost certain she will.

It’s six by the time he gives up on the cookies and decides to go home. He’s made three batches and disliked all of them, but is so disillusioned by his first day in his new role that he puts a box in his bag to take home and eat in front of Netflix that evening.

It’s when he gets back in the elevator that he remembers his disastrous interaction with the attractive stranger - _Kurt,_ he thinks - that morning. He looks at the box of cookies under his arm, at the button for the floor that he saw Maybe-Kurt get off at that morning, and makes an impulsive decision.

He leaves the box on the receptionist’s desk with a note.

_For Kurt (?? tall, blue eyes)_   
_Sorry I messed up your photos this morning! :(_   
_-Blaine from BA_


	2. beer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kurt receives the cookies!

“Jesus, Hummel, you look like you need a drink.”

“Thank you for your input,” Kurt replies, not taking his eyes off his screen despite the way his eyes are burning. “Any more pearls of wisdom for me today, Unique?”

She laughs, perching on the edge of his desk. “Seriously, I’m usually the person here latest. It’s seven, why aren’t you on your way home yet?”

Kurt sighs, peering at her over the top of his glasses. “I got knocked down by some dumbass in the elevator today and scattered the proof shots for the cover shoot with Laverne Cox all over the floor.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah,” Kurt grimaces, carefully not mentioning that said dumbass had been so cute Kurt is still struggling to be truly angry with him. “So I got up at 6am to cross Manhattan and pick up the photos _in person_ only for half of them to end up bent and all of them out of order.”

“Oh, babe.” She pats the top of his head. “I’m pretty sure someone stashed a beer in the back of the fridge. You want me to fetch it?”

“You know I think beer tastes like ass.” Kurt takes his glasses off and drops them onto the desk next to the pile of photos, still waiting to be reordered.

“You like ass.”

“I like it when it’s not in my alcohol.” Kurt pinches the bridge of his nose. “I got chewed out over the damn photos by Anna’s PA and now I’m sat here trying to get these edits done before I go home so that Isabelle doesn’t fire me tomorrow.”

“Come on, you know she’d never actually do that.” Unique reaches over and pinches his cheek. “Go home, Kurt. You look like you’re about to pass out right here on your copy edits.”

“I’m a senior editor, Unique -”

“And you never let me, a _lowly_ fashion production coordinator, forget it.”

He snorts mid sentence, acquiescing her point. “I feel guilty going home without finishing everything.”

“You talk like you’re not going to work over your Chinese food this evening,” Unique chides, “I know you, Hummel.”

“You do,” Kurt agrees reluctantly, rubbing his eyes. “Maybe the walk to the subway station will clear my head.”

“I don’t want to see you when I next pass through here in half an hour, on pain of making you drink beer,” she instructs him, “Deal?”

“Deal.” Kurt lifts his hand blindly for her to fist-bump it. “Love you, ‘Nique.”

“Love you!” she trills as she walks away.

Kurt sits at his desk for another fifteen minutes before he really can no longer stand it and decides to go home. He shoulders his bag, tucks his portfolio under his arm ( _never again_ will he make the mistake of carrying proofs without them being entirely contained) and makes his way out of his office and down the corridor towards the elevators.

On his way out, he spots a tupperware perched on top of the receptionist’s desk. The elevator is coming all the way from the ground floor, so Kurt decides to be nosy and go and inspect what he assumes is another of Leanne’s secret admirers has left for her.

It’s a considerable surprise when the note is actually addressed to _him_. Kurt puts his bag down, forgetting the elevator, and picks up the note to read it.

_For Kurt (?? tall, blue eyes)_   
_Sorry I messed up your photos this morning! :(_   
_-Blaine from BA_

Kurt stares vacantly at the note, trying to figure out both how this guy found out what his name is and what _BA_ stands for. He comes up with _Ben Affleck_ and _Bank of America_ before he finally remembers that they share a building with the _Bon Appétit_ offices and eagerly cracks open the box.

Immediately, the scent of cinnamon and pumpkin hits him, and Kurt rolls his eyes back in his head as he inhales. The box is full of these cookies, sprinkled with sea salt, and Kurt swears he can see chunks of caramel half-melted throughout.

“Oh my god,” he moans, almost about to start tearing into the box right there and then when the elevator _dings_ its arrival. Kurt glances at the doors as they open, back at the box, and then crams the lid back on and stuffs it in his bag as he races to slide into the elevator before they close again.

He’s pretty sure there’s some sort of rule about accepting packages without a signature or return address or some security bullshit, but the box is clearly full of cookies and nothing else and if Kurt dies eating them because they’re full of anthrax, so be it.

He can’t resist; he eats one while on the subway, one arm curled protectively around the box like someone might try and steal it (though it _is_ New York, so someone might) while he consumes the cookie in record time. It’s incredible. Potentially the best thing he’s ever eaten, and Kurt forgives the _Bon Appétit_ employee with the pretty hazel eyes on the spot.

He has the presence of mind to google _Blaine bon appetit_ that evening, between bites of chow mein, and makes sure the architect of the best cookies he’s ever had is the same guy who made him drop two hundred and fifty proof photos of Laverne Cox onto an elevator floor. The guy that beams out at him from his Instagram profile looks a little more put together than the one he met that morning, wearing a neatly tied bowtie and a bright, beaming smile. His full name is Blaine Anderson, and he’s a senior food editor at _Bon Appétit_. His instagram feed is filled with photos of perfectly baked loaves of bread, mouth-watering croissants and the occasional incredibly adorable selfie. There’s also one photo of him mid-knead of dough, his sleeves rolled up and a pair of incredibly well-defined forearms on display. It’s actually really hot, and Kurt forces himself to put his phone down and finish re-ordering the proof photos before he finally collapses into bed. 

He considers direct messaging Blaine on Instagram to thank him for the cookies, but before he can try and think up a message he catches sight of the tupperware, still on his dresser from where he snuck a cookie before hopping in the shower.

Kurt smiles to himself, rolling over to turn off his light. He’ll just have to deliver the box back himself, he supposes, and if he manages to catch the cute baker with the breathtaking smile for half a second, well. Even better.


	3. creed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the box is returned!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you tell how hard i found it to shoehorn the word creed into this chapter.

Blaine gets into work the next day on time, thank god. He looks around as he heads to the elevators, hopeful he might have another run in with the attractive stranger potentially called Kurt, but the tall man with the pretty eyes is nowhere to be found. He makes his way up to the offices, feeling a little more optimistic than he was the day before, and sits down at his desk to check his emails before he starts trying to fix the cookies he failed at yesterday. He finally settles on a recipe by lunch, but by then he’s done another three batches and everyone in the kitchen is sick to death of him showing up behind them asking what they think.

“If anyone offers me _one_ more pumpkin flavoured thing this week I’m going to quit my job,” Tina says loudly as she films Wes making loaded baked sweet potatoes, “I will go Michael B. Jordan in Creed on your ass, Blaine.”

Blaine pouts as he crosses behind Wes, carrying his tray of cookies, and sees her pivoting slightly to zoom in on him as he walks. “Leave me alone!” he says loudly as he tries to make it to the offices without her catching his sad face for a joke during Wes’ video, but her cackling tells him he’s probably unsuccessful.

He gets two takers in the offices, but everyone is pretty much sick of pumpkin _anything_ in the lead up to Halloween and the October issue. Blaine quietly considers that maybe he should have picked a different week to make cookies when Jane had been working on the “25 things to do with leftover Halloween pumpkins” article just the week before as he sadly packs the misshapen cookies into several boxes, leaving only the most aesthetically pleasing for the shoot that he organised for later.

Blaine’s sat at his desk after lunch, staring at the three boxes of cookies piled on a table while he tries to sort out his schedule for the next week, when their receptionist, Jo, pokes her head over the top of the partition and says, “Blaine, there’s someone for you at reception?”

Blaine frowns, checking his calendar. “For me? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, he says his name’s Hummel?”

 _Hummel?_ Blaine mouths to himself as he heads to the front desk with Jo, trying to place who this person might be. When he turns the corner and sees Maybe-Kurt standing there, looking slightly nervous, well. Blaine nearly trips over his own feet.

“Hi,” he says faintly, standing in the entryway to the offices. “You wanted to see me?”

“Hey!” Maybe-Kurt smiles apprehensively, “Blaine, right?”

“Yeah,” Blaine says, a little breathless, and offers out his hand. “Anderson. Blaine Anderson.”

“I’m Kurt Hummel,” Definitely-Kurt says, taking the outstretched hand. He has a firm grip, with strong fingers that squeeze Blaine’s hand tightly. “I just wanted to return the tupperware you left for me.”

“Oh, of course!” Blaine says, only then realising that he’s probably been holding on to Kurt’s hand for a few seconds too long and releasing it. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

Kurt smiles widely, handing the box back, and Blaine takes it, smiling equally as widely. They stare at each other for a moment before Blaine ventures, “Did you enjoy them?”

“Oh, they were phenomenal.” Kurt puts a hand to his chest, “Literally the best cookies I’ve ever eaten, thank you. And of course, you’re utterly forgiven for the whole elevator thing, water under the bridge.”

“Oh, good,” Blaine can feel his cheeks starting to hurt from how hard he’s smiling, “I, uh, I worked pretty hard on them.”

“Well, that hard work paid off.” Kurt nods, rocking back and forth on his heels. They stare at each other for a few more seconds before Kurt glances over his shoulder and nods his head towards the elevator. “Well, I should probably get back to, uh, my floor.”

“No, no, of course,” Blaine holds his hand out, signifying _go ahead_. “Thank you for returning the box. And for the compliment! I really appreciate it.”

“No problem, Blaine.” Kurt seems to hold on to his name for half a moment, like he wants to treasure it. “Thank you for the cookies.”

Blaine bows like an idiot, watches as Kurt turns towards the elevators with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle up, and then stumbles back into the offices with the box clutched to his chest, barely even noticing that Jo witnessed the entire interaction.

He sinks into his desk chair with his face on fire in a way completely unbecoming of a man only three years away from turning thirty, and tries to focus on his damn schedule.

When Blaine goes home at six, he checks on the cookies. They remain mostly untouched on the table, and once again, he makes an impulsive decision.

He leaves two of the three boxes on the receptionist’s desk with another note.

_Hi Kurt :)  
I hope you enjoy these new and improved cookies!  
-Blaine from BA  
_


	4. date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kurt's bad at flirting.

Kurt finds the second and third boxes of cookies when he leaves work at eight that night.

He’s still kicking himself over how awkwardly he attempted to flirt with Blaine earlier. All the suave intros he had come up with had flown out the window the second he saw Blaine again, and in the elevator back up to Vogue he’d felt like an absolute fool. He was certain that he had completely ruined any chances to get to know Blaine better, and had spent most of the day convincing himself that he wasn’t _really_ infatuated with this cute, compact baker with a smile that made his heart race. But the two boxes left on the receptionist’s desk reassure him that maybe he didn’t completely fuck it up.

He had transferred the cookies into his own tupperware so he could give the original back ASAP, but two boxes is way too many to take home so instead he sticks his head into Unique’s office to see if she wants any.

“You’re still here?” she says incredulously before he even has a chance to open his mouth. “It’s eight! _At night!_ ”

“I took a long lunch break,” Kurt says by way of explanation, “Do you want a cookie?”

She narrows her eyes. “Is this you trying to bribe me into forgetting you work too hard?”

“Unique, you are here later than me most days,” Kurt says, “Why do I not get to be angry with you?”

She purses her lips. “I’m not answering that.”

“Exactly,” Kurt smacks the box down on her desk. “Eat one.”

He stares her down until she opens the box, pulls off a fragment and puts it in her mouth.

“Oh my god.” She widens her eyes. “Oh my god that’s good. Did you make these?”

“Remember the dumbass who knocked the prints out of my arms yesterday?”

Unique goes back for the rest of the cookie. “He bought you these?”

“He _made them_.” Kurt pulls out his phone to show her Blaine’s instagram. “He works at _Bon Appétit,_ downstairs? He left them for me last night.”

“Oh he’s hot, too,” Unique says through her mouthful, “Damn, look at those arms.”

“I know,” Kurt sighs, “I went to give him his box back and just made a complete fool of myself. I shook his _hand_.”

Unique _cackles._ “You shook his hand? Like _hey, hot baker, can I arrange for you to pound me like your dough at a time convenient for both of us?_ ”

Kurt groans. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“Why didn’t you just ask him out?”

“Like on a date?” Kurt grimaces. “I don’t know.”

“Why not?”

“I - I don’t even know if he’s gay!”

She turns his phone screen around towards him. “Does this answer your question?”

“Oh,” Kurt says faintly. Unique must have scrolled back at least a year on Blaine’s instagram, because the photo she’s showing him is of Blaine, decked out in rainbow gear, waving a pride flag.

“Oh,” he says a little louder, “Oh! Oh my god.”

“How are you nearly thirty and you haven’t learned to scroll back more than three weeks on someone’s instagram?”

“I’m a very busy man,” Kurt says, “I don’t have time.”

She rolls her eyes. “You just don’t know how to use Instagram, you old man.”

“I will take the cookies back -”

“You can try, boy, but I will smack you down and then tell this baker you’re a cruel man with no care for his friends.”

Kurt sighs. “I’ll leave the box with you, then?”

She winks. “That or you lose your hands.”

“I’m going home,” Kurt shrugs his coat on, “Are you?”

She holds up her hand, _five more minutes_.

He huffs. “Please go home.”

She holds up two fingers. Kurt arches an eyebrow, checks his watch.

“Oh my god, fine,” she slides the boxes into a desk drawer, “You’re like my father.”

“You know me, I can’t leave anywhere without an entourage.” He waits for her to put on her jacket and offers out his arm.

“Maybe I won’t tell your baker boy that you’re a cruel man,” she says, laughing. Kurt narrows his eyes at her. “He’s not my boy.”

“Not yet!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Kurt mutters, “Not yet.”


	5. emergency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a chance meeting in the cafeteria!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY i know i'm a day late but i have my reasons

Blaine rarely makes the trip down to to the Condé Nast cafeteria, owing to the fact that he works at a food magazine  _ in _ the test kitchen and if he forgets lunch there’s almost always something for him to graze on. But today, surprisingly, the only thing being made is pumpkin pie, and if he tries to sneak a slice of that Jane will actually kill him and destroy the evidence in the dehydrator.

So he finds himself hopping in the elevator down to the fourth floor, not hugely enthused about paying an outlandish amount for a small pack of sushi but aware that he’s too hungry to wait for a Postmates order to arrive. Tina said she’d join him later, but Blaine’s not counting on it because he’s pretty sure she has a bunch of those naked noodle snack pots stashed in her desk. 

The elevator doors open to the crowded cafeteria, and Blaine’s already regretting his decision. He tucks his book under his arm and makes his way towards the salad bar, hoping that there will be at least something left that isn’t twenty dollars.

He lucks out and finds a black bean quinoa bowl that isn’t outlandishly expensive, and is trying to decide whether or not he deserves a slice of lavender and poppyseed cake when he hears a familiar voice.

Blaine glances up and sees Kurt and an unfamiliar woman in five inch heels standing by the sandwich station, just as they look up and see him. For half a second Blaine thinks about faking some kind of emergency and running for the elevator, but his feet are glued to the floor and all he can do is think about how he didn’t fix his bowtie before coming down to the cafeteria like an absolute  _savage._

“Hey, Blaine!” Kurt says brightly, heading in his direction, “Fancy seeing you here!”

“Hey!” Blaine says back, clutching his biodegradable box of salad, “Yeah, I, uh… I don’t come here often.”

“Is this the cookie guy?” Kurt’s impeccably dressed friend says, and Kurt elbows her, his face going slightly pink. “Don’t act like you don’t know his name, come on.”

“Okay, okay,” she extends her hand. “Hi sweetie, I’m Unique. Nice to finally meet you.”

“And you,” Blaine says politely as he shakes her hand, confused about what’s going on. “Are you -”

“I’m the fashion production coordinator to his senior editor.” She curtseys. “Kurt won’t shut about you and your baking prowess. The entire office is sick of it.”

“That’s not true!” Kurt’s blush is starting to spread down his throat to the open neck of his shirt. “Your cookies are very popular, Blaine, and what Unique _means_ to say is thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Blaine says, incredibly nervous for no obvious reason. “I’m glad you’re enjoying them. I do, uh, have another box if you’re interested.”

Kurt’s eyes widen. “You didn’t bake them just for me, right?”

Blaine’s throat kind of closes up at that. “I - well, I baked them three days ago, so they’re not, uh, as fresh as the others? But I held on to them just in case.”

“This one’s a keeper,” Unique says, winking at him. “Blaine, lovely to meet you, but I’m late for a shoot. Ciao!”

“Ciao!” Blaine says as she disappears in a cloud of perfume and the toss of a scarf over her shoulder, leaving he and Kurt staring awkwardly at each other in public once again.

“Are you eating here?” Kurt asks, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, “Want to grab a booth?”

Blaine wants to run to the bathroom and retie his bowtie and straighten his sweater and check he doesn’t have anything in his teeth and restyle his hair and grow three inches and -

“Yeah, that’d be great,” he says.

“So you work for _Bon Appétit?_ ” Kurt says once they find a seat, “What are you doing here?”

Blaine tilts his head, unsure what Kurt means. “As in in the building?”

“ _No!_ Oh my god, no, of course not, I mean - I mean in the cafeteria. Surely you guys must have an abundance of delicious free food stocked up in the fridges there, right?”

“Oh!” Blaine laughs a little, “We have a lot of ingredients, but most assembly takes place on the day, and nobody’s really cooking anything I can steal right now.”

“That’s a shame.” Kurt’s still a little pink, and Blaine can’t stop looking at the opening of his shirt where the skin is flushed. “I figured you guys just had endless snack foods up there.”

Blaine pokes at his salad, trying not to smile like an idiot. “I mean, I have a whole box of twinkies stored in my desk, but if my boss sees me eating them he gets really sad so I try to avoid it.”

“LIke gourmet twinkies?” Kurt asks as he takes a huge bite of his sandwich, “With chocolate ganache or something?”

Blaine snorts. “No, like the three dollar ten-pack you get at Walmart.”

“Fair enough,” Kurt says through his mouthful, “And you -”

He’s interrupted by his phone buzzing, and Blaine watches his eyes widen almost comically before he silences it. “Shit - I completely forgot I had a meeting. I’m so sorry -”

“It’s fine!” Blaine says hastily, “Don’t worry about it, it was nice to see you.”

“I promise I’ll return your other boxes soon,” Kurt says as he grabs his sandwich and phone, “And thank you for the cookies! In advance!”

Before Blaine can say goodbye Kurt’s off, half-jogging through the cafeteria while texting frantically. He nearly walks into someone carrying a tray, does a little spin to avoid them while apologising, then disappears around the corner mid-bite of sandwich. Blaine realises his chin is propped on his palm and he’s staring dreamily after this disaster of a man.

“Oh no,” he says to himself, grabbing his salad and deciding to eat at his desk, “I think I have a crush.”


	6. fist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the end of a fateful week.

Kurt’s leaving work _on time_ for the first time in weeks.

His edits are done, his inbox is empty, he’s sent in his requisitions for clothing for his shoot with Billy Porter next week, and Isabelle told him he was doing a great job after their meeting. It’s five thirty and he’s feeling good as he puts on his coat and heads out of the office, already thinking about the last pumpkin-caramel cookie he has waiting for him in his cupboard. It’s Friday, and he has a weekend of not doing anything but lounging around and over-analyzing the conversation he had with Blaine at lunch.

He’s so absorbed in his own excited thoughts that he almost doesn’t notice the figure standing at the reception desk, bent over writing something. Kurt slows, tugs his coat to make sure it’s lying straight, and says, “Hey, stranger.”

Blaine’s head snaps up and he looks adorably like a deer in headlights for a moment. “Kurt! Oh my god, hi, I - I was just leaving some more cookies for you.”

Kurt gasps. “Are you serious?”

Blaine hefts another box, smiling. “It’s the last one, unfortunately.”

“It is?” Kurt grabs the box and clutches it to him, squeezing a little. “Oh man, that’s a shame.”

“Well, we are publishing the recipe in the October issue, so it won’t be too long until you make them yourself,” Blaine says sweetly, “I could probably get you an advance copy if you want it.”

“Somehow I feel like I couldn’t make them as well as you can. Is there like a secret or something? A baker’s secret?” Kurt makes a fist and mimes kneading dough.

Blaine laughs. “Just a _lot_ of practice, I think.”

“How long have you been baking?” Kurt asks as they both start walking towards the elevator at the same time, “A while?”

“I’ve been baking my whole life, but seriously since I was about fourteen,” Blaine hits the down button and then straightens his bowtie in the shiny metal of the doors. “Do you bake?”

“I make maybe three things well,” Kurt says, slightly ashamed, “I used to be pretty good, but then I moved to New York and couldn’t adjust to the size of the kitchens here.”

“You’re not a native New Yorker then?” Blaine holds his hand out, inviting Kurt to enter the elevator first.

“No, Ohio born and bred,” Kurt sighs, “I try not to think about it.”

“Ohio?” Blaine gasps, “Me too! I’m from Westerville!”

“No shit,” Kurt stares at him, “I’m from Lima!”

“Oh my god, that’s crazy,” Blaine laughs, “We grew up like two hours from each other.”

“And now we work in the same building?” Kurt shakes his head, hitting the button for the ground floor, “Small world.”

“I feel like if it was a little smaller we would have met at Six Flags during high school or something,” Blaine grins, and Kurt groans. “Oh god, I was such a spotty mess as a high schooler. I much prefer you meeting me now, not then.”

Blaine’s lips part and his cheeks go a little red before he looks down at his feet and laughs nervously. “Well, at least we met eventually.”

Kurt actually loses the ability to speak for a moment because he’s so overwhelmed by the sheer attractiveness of the man standing in front of him. “Yeah,” he says, throat dry, “You’re right.”

The doors open into the lobby, and this time Kurt insists Blaine exits first. “Plans for the weekend?”

Blaine shrugs. “Bake some bread, watch some Netflix, go to the dog park. You?”

“Sleep and eat takeout, pretty much,” Kurt nearly walks into a pillar because he’s so busy looking at Blaine, “You have a dog?”

“No, my apartment building doesn’t allow them, but I like hanging out there,” Blaine says, a tinge of embarrassment in his voice. “Do you have any pets?”

“I work in fashion,” Kurt says, “If I showed up with cat fur on my pants, I’d probably get fired.”

“Really?” Blaine gasps, eyes huge, “Oh my god -”

“Holy shit, no, Blaine, I’m joking.” Kurt tries to hold back his laughter. “My building doesn’t allow them either.”

“Oh, right.” Blaine laughs. They’re at the doors now, and Kurt almost goes to hold one open before he remembers they’re automatic.

“So,” Kurt says, “Have a good weekend?”

Blaine smiles. “Yeah, you too. Enjoy the cookies!”

“I will,” Kurt says, starting to back away. “Enjoy the dog park!”

“I will!” Blaine tilts his head, his eyes sparkling, “See you Monday?”

“Sure,” Kurt grins like an idiot, “See you Monday.”

He feels like he’s walking on air the whole way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the prompt was fist and i did want to write fisting but they've only known each other five days.


	7. ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> monday again.

Blaine would like to say that he didn’t spend half the weekend thinking about Kurt, but that would be a lie.

He thinks about Kurt while he makes bread. While he walks to the dog park. At 11pm on Saturday when he can’t stop picturing the way the blush had spread down Kurt’s chest at lunch. He’s had crushes - or maybe at his age he should call it an _infatuation_ \- before, but not at a level like this. Three conversations and he’s hooked on this guy like a stupid teenager, complete with daydreaming while he stares out the window and trying to find his profile on Instagram to make sure he is _actually_ gay.

Kurt’s instagram is very artistic. It’s mostly photos from shoots he’s styled, with a surprising lack of #ootd selfies as Blaine would expect from someone who works at the biggest fashion magazine on the planet. Scattered throughout, though, Blaine finds the occasional office photo or picture of the skyline. The further back he goes, the more Kurt’s actual face features - the #ootd pictures increase, along with photos of -

“Holy crap,” Blaine says, sitting up in bed, because Kurt is friends with the singer _Mercedes Jones_. The more he learns about this guy, the more enamoured he becomes.

When Monday rolls around Blaine’s actually excited. Kurt’s had two full days to share-slash-eat the cookies he gave him on Friday, so if Blaine’s lucky he might get a chance to talk to him again. He has a bounce in his step as he makes his way to the elevators, humming softly to himself as he joins a crowded elevator. Once the doors open on his floor he starts to head past Jo at the reception desk with a bright smile until she waves him over.

“Your Vogue guy left these on my desk this morning,” she says, handing over a stack of tupperware boxes.

“Oh,” Blaine says, trying not to be disappointed. “Did he leave a note?”

She shakes her head. “Just the boxes.”

“Okay,” Blaine smiles at her even though his good mood has been thoroughly snuffed out. “Thanks, Jo.”

He leaves them in the dish pit and returns to work, slightly morose. Jane drops by his desk to get his opinion on the stuffing she’s working on mid-afternoon, takes one look at him and says “What on earth happened to you?”

“What do you mean?” Blaine looks up from the recipe he’s writing, “Nothing happened.”

“You look sad.” She holds the plate out. “Stuffing?”

“I’m good.” Blaine shakes his head. “And I’m not sad. It’s just Monday.”

“I have never once seen you be reduced by the Monday blues.”

“Well, it gets us all sometimes,” Blaine says, “Pobody’s nerfect, you know.”

She looks like she wants to push the subject, but then Sophia calls her from across the office and she leaves him to it. Blaine does his best to get on with his work, but the disappointment hangs over him all day. He wonders whether it was something he did that seems to have put Kurt off, and replays their last conversation in his head, trying to find where it was that he went wrong. When five thirty rolls around with still no sign of Kurt, Blaine decides to give up and go home.

He drags his feet to the elevators, huffing a sigh as he hits the button to descend. There’s some salmon defrosting in his fridge for dinner tonight, but he’s feeling more like picking up some comfort food. Maybe Vietnamese, or if he’s feeling really desperate, he might go out of his way to the Italian place he found a few months ago that made the best gnocchi he’d ever had.

He’s trying to convince himself that the salmon and couscous will be just as soothing to his soul as a plate of gnocchi when the elevator doors slide open and reveal Kurt, folding a pair of glasses away into a chic case. He freezes as soon as he notices Blaine, mouth half open.

Blaine stares at him, frozen in the opening of the elevator, until the doors start to close. Kurt jumps forward, throwing a hand out to stop them, and that jerks Blaine out of his reverie. He hops in, smiling nervously at Kurt.

Kurt smiles briefly back, then looks at the floor.

Blaine’s stomach twists nervously. He wants to start a conversation but his throat is far too dry, so instead he looks up at the display above the doors and counts the floors as they descend. It’s the longest elevator journey of Blaine’s life.

The elevator dings their arrival on the ground floor, and just before the doors open Kurt says suddenly, “Do you drink coffee?”

Blaine, partway through hurrying out of the elevator and going directly to get Italian food, pauses. “Do I drink - yeah, I drink coffee. Why?”

When Kurt looks at him this time, the nerves are evident on his face, and his shoulders are tense. “Would you like to get some coffee?”

“Get coffee?” Blaine repeats, confused, “Like, now?”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, “If you’re free. I mean, if you want to. If you’d like to get some coffee, now, that would be great.”

Blaine glances back into the elevator like there might be a hidden camera or something. He’s kind of expecting someone to jump out and tell him he’s being pranked. “You want to get coffee with me?”

Kurt laughs nervously. “I - yeah. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

Relief floods through Blaine, a smile coming to his face. “Yeah. Yes. I’d love to get some coffee.”

Kurt’s shoulders relax and he smiles back. “You’re free now?”

“I am,” Blaine nods vigorously, “Do you have a place in mind?”

“There’s one about a block away?” Kurt nods his head in the direction of the doors.

“Sounds great.” Blaine’s trying so hard to rein in his enthusiasm, but he’s sure it’s shining through. “Lead the way.”


	8. hiccup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> monday again, again.

Kurt realises at seven in the morning on Monday that he’s almost certainly not going to see Blaine today.

He’s at the office in preparation for heading to the shoot location for eight, checking in with Unique to make sure everything’s in order before they get an Uber. He’s just about to walk out of the door when he sees, in his tote bag, on his desk where he left them, the tupperwares that belong to the test kitchen. 

“Shit,” he says out loud, crossing the room and seizing the bag. Somehow, in his mind, he had been finished with the shoot by one and had magically been back at the offices in time to catch Blaine for a late lunch, but now he’s facing down the day he’s realising that’s unlikely.

“Kurt!” Unique yells, “Are you coming?”

“One second, one second,” Kurt shouts back, slinging the bag over his shoulder as he power walks to the lobby, “Can we make a quick detour?”

Unique takes one look at the bag and groans. “Are you kidding?”

“I just need to drop them off and write a quick -”

She presses the button to call the elevator. “You have as many seconds as it takes for the doors to open and close.”

Kurt tries to convince her otherwise, but she just gives him the kind of glare that tells him he’s going to get his ass beat if he keeps pushing it. So he sprints out of the elevator, stacks the boxes on the receptionist’s desk, and skids back in through the doors just before they shut on him.

He barely has a second to think about it once he gets to the shoot, as absorbed as he is in making sure everything goes according to plan. Once the shoot is all wrapped up and everything’s packed away he runs back to the office for a meeting with the editors, then works through the emails that had arrived throughout the day. When he glances up at the clock, satisfied with the work he’s done, Kurt’s expecting it to be six, maybe even seven, so it’s a pleasant surprise when it’s only a quarter past five.

He gets his things together at a leisurely pace, stopping to gossip with the accessories director on his way out. When he steps into the elevator he realises his glasses are still perched on the top of his head and he has to dig in his bag to find the case. He’s blinking as his eyes adjust to everything being slightly further away when the doors open and he looks up and  _oh, shit, fuck, goddammit, it’s Blaine._

Blaine, who looks just as surprised to see him. Who gives him a slight smile, which Kurt returns before immediately looking away before the guilt in his eyes becomes apparent. He’s suddenly remembering how they made a whole thing about _seeing each other Monday_ and then he just, didn’t do that, and didn’t even let Blaine know that he wouldn’t be around. 

_ Oh god _ , Kurt thinks,  _I’m an asshole. I have to say something._

He sneaks a glance at Blaine and sees that he’s just staring at the doors of the elevator, jaw clenched. Kurt swallows nervously, trying to figure out what to say. Should he make a joke? Or just apologise? Should he explain that he was styling a shoot and wasn’t in the building over lunch? _No, that would sound pretentious_. His mind whirs, trying to land on a solution, something that’ll make Blaine smile, maybe -

The elevator dings as they arrive on the ground floor, and Kurt panics.

“Do you drink coffee?”

Blaine stops mid-stride and turns to look at him. Kurt hopes his panic isn’t visible as he follows him out of the elevator.  _Do you drink coffee? Jesus, Hummel, of course he drinks coffee._

“Do I drink - yeah, I drink coffee,” Blaine answers, eyes slightly narrowed.

“Would you like to get some coffee?”  _Keep it together, keep it together.”_

“Get coffee?” Confusion is evident on Blaine’s face. “Like now?”

_ Okay, a slight hiccup, but we’re back on track. _ “Yeah, if you’re free.” _Bring it home. You got this_. “I mean, if you want to. If you’d like to get some coffee now, that would be great.” _Never mind._

Blaine glances back and forth, brows drawn together. “You want to get coffee with me?”

Kurt almost wants to scream yes, but he doesn’t. “I… yeah. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

Blaine’s smile comes out like the sun on a cloudy day, his eyes scrunching up with the force of it. “I’d love to get some coffee.”

Kurt feels all the tension drain out of him and he almost wants to sit down. “You’re free now?”

Blaine nods hard. “I am. Do you… have a place in mind?”

Kurt doesn’t, but he remembers the place he got an emergency second mocha from several weeks prior on his way into work when he thought he was going to die from lack of sleep. “There’s one about a block away?”

“Sounds great.” Blaine’s smiling so wide that Kurt’s actually getting butterflies. “Lead the way.”

_ Oh my god _ , Kurt thinks as they head towards the revolving doors,  _I cannot believe that actually worked._


	9. interrupt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> coffee at 5pm? irresponsible.

It’s difficult to make conversation with Kurt as they weave through the crowds of tourists and businessmen on their way to the coffee shop. Blaine keeps having to drop behind him to avoid walking into people, and it’s actually a little easier just to walk in the path forged by Kurt, who seems to have mastered the kind of walk that makes people move out of the way. It also gives him an opportunity to admire how well Kurt’s coat accentuates his broad shoulders, which is an added bonus.

He’s so busy staring dreamily at the coat Kurt’s wearing and the shoulders it contains that he almost walks directly into him when they arrive at the coffee shop. It’s not one Blaine’s been to before, but Kurt could probably walk him into an on fire garbage can and Blaine wouldn’t mind.

Kurt holds the door open for him as they walk in, which is very gentlemanly of him. Blaine then hangs around awkwardly as Kurt ends up holding the door open for several other tourists, rolling his eyes at Blaine until he can get away. They reunite in the line, and Kurt leans down towards him a little. “What are you getting?”

“Medium drip,” Blaine says on automatic, and then after some consideration adds, “Probably decaf, though.”

“Ah, you’re the kind of person who stops drinking caffeine after a certain time?” Kurt asks, and Blaine laughs. “I try to limit myself, yeah. Otherwise I don’t sleep.”

“Smart.” Kurt turns his attention back to the menu board. “I’m gonna take a leaf out of your book and get decaf as well, so don’t take it personally if I start yawning.”

Blaine wishes he could stop smiling like an idiot, but he can’t. “As long as you do the same for me.”

They grab a table by the window and the conversation wanes as Blaine heavily doctors his coffee. He’s trying to figure out what he can start talking about when Kurt says, “Sorry I just left the boxes at the receptionist desk this morning. I meant to leave a note but I was running late for a shoot and - well, I don’t have your number or anything.”

“Oh!” Blaine brightens, “Well, I can solve that.”

He puts his hand out on the table between them, expecting Kurt to hand over his phone. What he’s not expecting is for Kurt to put his hand in Blaine’s, grip it gently, gasp audibly, snatch his hand back, throw his phone onto the table, and then put his face in his hands. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Blaine says, trying to suppress the somersaults his heart is doing, “It’s totally -”

“I’ve been up way too long and haven’t drunk anywhere near enough coffee, I just -”

“Kurt, don’t worry about it, it’s fine.” Blaine reaches across and pats Kurt’s forearm. “People have put worse things in my hand.”

Kurt lowers his hands, revealing the pink flush across his cheeks. “I swear I’m normally far more put together than this.”

“I really don’t mind.” Blaine props his chin on one hand, still smiling like an idiot., “It’s kind of overrated being put together. Makes you more interesting, I think.”

Kurt seems a little flustered by this, but he picks up his phone and unlocks it, handing it over properly. “I assume this was what you intended for me to do when you put your hand out.”

“I can’t complain about what I got, though,” Blaine says flirtily. Kurt’s face goes red and he takes a big sip of coffee.

Blaine inputs his name and number into Kurt’s phone. “There. Solved.”

Kurt takes his phone back, and a few seconds later Blaine’s buzzes on the table. Kurt’s sent him what looks like a string of complete gibberish, followed by the panting face emoji. Blaine decides to examine the implications of that later.

“So,” Kurt says, clearly keen to change the topic, “Are you heading back to Ohio for Thanksgiving?”

Blaine follows along, just happy to be there. They get talking about Thanksgiving traditions, and then onto family, and from there the conversation spirals to everything from high school to favourite guilty pleasure TV shows to Kurt making Blaine admit to ketchup being a superior condiment. They bond over a shared love for scrapbooking, and Kurt convinces Blaine to show him his current hobby of making little animal faces on onigiri. They talk for so long that it’s only when the waitress interrupts to tell them the café is closing that Blaine realises they’ve been there for two and a half hours and he’s so hungry he might pass out.

“Thank you for joining me,” Kurt says as they step back out into the cool evening air, “I had a really good time.”

“Thank you for asking me,” Blaine replies, tugging his jacket tightly around him. “And for letting me put my number in your phone.”

“Well, I need a way to find out when you’ve made more cookies,” Kurt winks. He then immediately adds, “That’s a joke. I’m not just using you for your baking prowess.”

“I figured, seeing as I didn’t bring you any today.” Blaine smiles up at Kurt. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Maybe for lunch?” Kurt asks, “I do owe you an actual conversation over food.”

“Sounds great,” Blaine says, and automatically he leans in for a hug like he’s known Kurt for months. Busy second-guessing himself, he doesn’t lift up on his toes so his face ends up planting directly into Kurt’s shoulder, and _oh my god_ he smells good. Citrusy, but also faintly floral, and Blaine really doesn’t think it’s fair that this guy is hot, funny, _and_ smells good. _He must have some weird kink or something, this is too good to be true._

Kurt hugs him back, thank god, and when they part he’s smiling widely even as he starts walking away. “I’ll text you then, I guess?”

“I’ll be waiting,” Blaine says, and then cringes so hard at his own choice of words that he hopes Kurt didn’t hear him.

“And I’ll be there!” Kurt calls, waves, and then turns and merges seamlessly into the crowd.

Blaine presses his hands to his warm cheeks and thinks _yep, I definitely have a crush._


	10. joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> unique is not impressed

Kurt realises pretty quickly he’s falling for this cute, charismatic baker.

He basically dances into work on Tuesday. It must be evident on his face because the first thing Unique says to him when she steps into his office after the editors meeting is “Did you get laid?”

“No,” he says, sweeping the coffee she brought him out of her hand, “Can I not be in a good mood?”

“You’re _beaming_.” She wrinkles her nose. “Are you sure you didn’t get laid?”

“I can’t be happy on a beautiful fall day?” Kurt gestures across the hall at the office space that actually has windows. “Can’t I be a little cheery? Joy to the world and all that?”

“Kurt, I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen you this cheerful after the nine am meeting.”

“I simply had some coffee with a very attractive gentleman yesterday evening,” Kurt says, taking a sip of his coffee and sitting back down at his desk, trying to hide his smile.

“Oh,” she says, “ _Oh_. With your baker boy?”

“I really wish you wouldn’t call him that, but yes, I did get coffee with Blaine.” Kurt can feel his smile becoming sappy and lovesick. “Unique, he’s so _nice_. I think I might be in love.”

“Oh my god.” She leans across his desk and feels his forehead. “Are you sick? Do you have a fever? I think you should go home.”

“Absolutely not, we’re getting lunch today,” Kurt says, affronted, “We have plans!”

“Oh my god, you really went from complete strangers to dating in a _week_.” She rolls her eyes, picking up her coffee. “I don’t know if I’m impressed or disappointed.”

“We’re not dating!” Kurt says quickly, before the gossip makes it around the office.

“You literally just said you’re in love.”

“Leave me alone,” he mutters, turning back to his coffee. “I’ve been single for way too long.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” she says, and blows him a kiss.

Kurt sees Blaine at lunch, which they spend almost all of discussing their childhood celebrity crushes before Blaine has to run back up to the offices to do something with a tub of dough. And when Kurt leaves work at six, there’s a new box on the receptionist’s desk for him.

Inside is a few slices of this incredibly light and airy looking lemon loaf. The note stuck to the top of the tub reads _I didn’t make this, but there were a few slices left over! Hope you enjoy :)_

The cake is good, but it’s not as good as the cookies. Kurt texts Blaine this, and receives a smiley face emoji in return.

“I feel like a fucking teenager,” he says out loud to his empty apartment and his plate of ketchup rice.

This kind of becomes their… routine, of sorts. Kurt starts heading down to the cafeteria far more frequently than he used to, which is bad for his wallet but much better for his consumption of vegetables. Blaine’s face when he finds out that Kurt usually eats either a microwave meal or a hot pocket for lunch is one of pure shock. They get coffee after work a couple more times, and Kurt starts kind of hanging around the Bon Appetit offices whenever Blaine lets him know he’s making something Kurt might like.

And yet, Kurt still hasn’t had the guts to actually ask Blaine out on a date.

He was psyching himself up for it when Blaine started talking about some guy called Sam. Apparently Sam works in the test kitchen, but he runs a very popular web series where he ferments stuff and also travels? Kurt went and found said web series and discovered that this Sam guy not only has incredibly well defined abs but he _also_ can cook in the middle of the woods like it’s nothing, which certainly dented his confidence in Blaine saying yes to getting dinner or something. Kurt goes to the gym sometimes, and he does yoga and aerobics, but he can’t compete with muscles that literally look like they’ve been pulled straight out of a Men’s Health cover shoot.

So he doesn’t ask Blaine out. Not yet. Not until he can figure out exactly where Blaine and this Sam guy stand. And he _will_ figure it out. Kurt is nothing if not thorough when he puts his mind to a task.


	11. kinship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> time to go drinking!

It’s the end of the week that the October issue comes out, and Tina has convinced Blaine and Sam to go drinking. 

It’s theme night at their favourite gay bar, and Blaine is swiftly realising that he doesn’t actually have anything cowboy themed. The closest that comes to it is an iridescent vinyl fringed jacket that he’s pretty sure Cooper gave him, and Tina excavates a pair of corresponding iridescent vinyl pants from the back of his closet.

“I don’t think this is very _cowboy_ ,” Blaine says as he tucks his mesh turtleneck into the pants, “I feel more like a noughties fever dream.”

Tina rolls her eyes. “You really think anyone will care?”

“Tina, when have I _ever_ half-assed a theme night?” Blaine asks, offended, “You know they take things seriously at Plush.”

“Blaine, please.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m literally just wearing flannel and calling it a night.”

“You also have a hat, do you not?” Blaine asks, inspecting himself in the mirror. He loves a theme night, especially when he gets to be a little outlandish, but he’s not sure if he’s feeling this look tonight.

“Hat or no hat, of everyone here tonight you’re going the hardest,” she assures him, “Except for maybe Sam, I don’t know what he’s going to wear.”

Sam ends up wearing jeans, a faux leather waistcoat he _must_ have stolen from a shoot back in his model days, and a red neckerchief. When Blaine asks if he wants a jacket or something, gesturing out of the window to the mild October night, Sam turns and says in a pitch perfect impression of Woody, “A hoe never gets cold, partner.”

“I feel _such_ a weird kinship with you right now,” Tina says as she knots Sam’s borrowed shirt above her navel.

So they make their way to Plush’s cowboy theme night already slightly buzzed off the mojitos Sam made while they were getting ready. Blaine’s looking forward to dancing all the stress of that week off and hopefully not getting caught in too many photos looking like a hot mess, but he’s very aware that Tina’s talent for catching him unawares makes that unlikely. All he can really hope for is that she doesn’t put them on the test kitchen group chat.

He’s at their table, avidly discussing the trailer of the newest Iron Man movie with Sam while completely forgetting that the whole aim of the evening was to both drink and dance, when Tina returns with the next round of drinks. 

“Mai tai for Blaine,” she half shouts over the thumping bass, “And whatever the fuck this is for Sam!”

“Thank you, Tee!” Blaine shouts back, and as he’s about to just down the entire cocktail a voice shouts, “ _Tina?_ ”

Tina turns, fixes her eyes on someone in the crowd, and yells back “ _Unique?”_

The name is familiar to Blaine, and just as he’s trying to place it, a vision in bright blue cowboy boots and a matching fur-rimmed hat bursts out of the cloud and throws her arms around Tina. Blaine shares a confused glance with Sam, and then immediately chokes on his drink as Kurt emerges from the dancefloor, clutching a glass and clad in chaps. Real leather chaps, with a shiny design curling down each side of the legs, and framing a pair of bedazzled black briefs.

“Blaine!” Tina says, jolting him out of his reverie, “This is Unique! We went to high school together -”

“Oh we’ve met,” Unique belts over the music, and then Blaine gets his own hug, “This is Kurt’s baker boy.”

Blaine only has a moment to ponder on being _Kurt’s baker boy_ when Tina says _“Kurt?_ Oh my god, it’s been forever!”

And now he has to consider that _Tina also knows Kurt._

 _Oh god,_ Blaine thinks, _what on Earth have I gotten myself into?_


	12. lecture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> time to dance.

Kurt certainly didn’t expect to run into Blaine when Unique insisted on him accompanying her to theme night at a gay bar she heard about, but he’s _really_ not complaining.

Blaine looks _hot_. Really hot. And he’s been hot before, he’s hot _all_ the time in Kurt’s eyes, but wearing a slightly sheer turtleneck under an iridescent vinyl jacket? Kurt would get on his knees right then and there if it weren’t for, you know, the crowd. As they cluster around the table, Kurt finds his eyes falling to Blaine’s chest, chewing on the end of his straw and then immediately regretting it because it’s made of paper, not plastic. He has to discreetly spit the wad of paper into his hand to avoid it falling out of his mouth as they talk.

Blaine’s looking back and forth between Tina and Unique, a half-smile on his face as he tries to keep up with the conversation. He looks a little lost, so Kurt squeezes past Unique and nudges their shoulders together.

“Fancy seeing you here!” he shouts over the Katy Perry song playing so loudly he can feel it in his bones. Blaine laughs, and Kurt notices he has some kind of glittery eyeshadow on his cheekbones and a light gloss on his lips.

_Oh no_ , Kurt thinks, _I would really like to kiss you right now._

“I know!” Blaine says, laughing, “Small world, right?”

He hooks his straw into his mouth with his tongue. Kurt’s in deep, deep trouble.

“How do you know each other?” the blond guy - _Sam_ , his name is Sam, Kurt has to remember that before he just calls him _abs guy_ \- and Kurt’s about to reply when Blaine leans back into Sam’s chest and says nearly in his ear, “He works at Vogue! I texted you about him!”

Kurt feels a sudden spike of jealousy at how comfortable they seem around each other. He’s chewing at the inside of his cheek as Sam nods and extends his hand. “Nice to meet you!”

“And you,” Kurt says, attempting not to sound too sour.

“Do you need a straw?” Sam indicates the mangled mess in Kurt’s drink, “The lady behind the bar knows me, I can get you a plastic one.”

“Sam!” Blaine says immediately, turning and knocking his shoulder into Sam’s, “What have I told you about plastic straws?”

“Oh, god,” Sam rolls his eyes at Kurt like _can you believe this guy?_ “I’m gonna go get another drink. Avoid the lecture. I’ll grab you a straw, bro!”

“It’s not a lecture, Sam, it’s about saving the planet!” Blaine yells after him as he heads towards the bar. Kurt can’t help but smile at the indignance on Blaine’s face as he turns back to Kurt, shaking his head with a small smile on his face. “He never listens to me.”

_God, they are like an old married couple_ , Kurt broods. He’s trying to be frustrated, but Blaine’s wide smile really makes it impossible.

“Kurt!” Unique grabs the back of his shirt and tugs, “Come dance!”

Kurt would say no, but he’s drunk and Blaine’s starting to move after Tina, grooving from side to side with his drink in one hand. Unique tugs again, and as Kurt stumbles out from behind the table he catches Blaine’s eyes dragging down his body as he catches himself. There’s a heat in his eyes, in the way he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, and Kurt thinks _oh wait fuck maybe they’re **not** dating._

So he joins them on the floor, laughing as Unique shakes her shoulders at him. They’re blasting Abba, which doesn’t fit with the theme of the night at all, but Kurt’s just drunk enough to not give a shit. He keeps catching Blaine’s eye as they dance, and as the song changes from _Gimme Gimme Gimme_ to _I Feel Love_ by Donna Summer they end up next to each other.

It’s like the rest of the crowd falls away as Blaine’s eyes lock with his. The glitter on his cheekbones reflects the pulsing lights of the club, and the attraction Kurt feels is so intense that he can’t help moving closer. Blaine’s hips move smoothly, his gaze heavy with intention, and Kurt can do nothing but hover his hand over Blaine’s hip, almost close enough to touch but still holding back. Blaine’s lips move, mouthing _fallin’ free, fallin’ free, fallin’ free_ , the gloss shining. Kurt wants so desperately to know what he tastes like. Blaine’s tongue slips out, running over his bottom lip, and as his eyes dip Kurt realises that the glitter is in his eyelashes as well.

His hand touches Blaine’s hip, and a smile pulls at those lips. The lights highlight the planes of Blaine’s body as they roll seductively, the fabric of his shirt pulling. A corner has untucked from his pants, exposing a slip of skin, and Kurt’s thumb brushes it. His heart is beating so hard he can barely hear the music over the thrum as he drinks in every aspect of the man in front of him, the way Blaine moves, smiles, the way his hand comes to rest on Kurt’s shoulder.

_You and me, you and me, you and me_. Blaine’s lips form the words, and Kurt finds himself singing it right back. They’re so close now that with each roll of the hips their bodies nearly touch. Kurt looks at Blaine, at the curve of his mouth and the playful heat in his eyes, and wants him _so badly_.

And then he sees Sam, dancing a few feet from them, and adrenaline pumps through him, driving him back. He trips into someone, apologises, and before his drunk brain can register the confusion on Blaine’s face he turns and stumbles away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kurt and blaine's outfits can be found [here](https://twitter.com/lesbiandva/status/1206652081165258753)!


	13. maximum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some strings are uncrossed.

Kurt books it towards the table they’d been sat at earlier, only to find it occupied by a new group of people. He veers off towards the bathrooms instead, hoping to get some respite from the pounding music, and is about to push open the door when someone grabs his arm.

Kurt looks over his shoulder and feels his stomach do a complicated sinking-flopping feeling as he sees Blaine there, cheeks flushed and eyes wide.

“Hey,” he says, his chest rising and falling rapidly like he ran to catch up with Kurt, “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

“I -” Kurt stares at him, confused, “What? What do you mean?”

“Are you feeling sick?” Blaine’s still holding onto his arm. “Do you want to get some air?”

“No, I’m good.” Kurt wants to pull his arm away but Blaine’s kind of rubbing his thumb over the inside of Kurt’s wrist and it’s really nice. “I just felt kind of bad, you know?”

“Why?” Blaine’s eyebrows draw together. “Did I do something?”

“No, I just -” Kurt gestures with his free hand vaguely in the direction of where they were dancing. “I mean, he’s your boyfriend, right?”

“Who?” Blaine’s squinting at him like he’s speaking French. “Sam?”

“Yeah, abs guy,” Kurt says, and then immediately backtracks. “I mean - Sam. Yes.”

Blaine _laughs_.

He almost doubles over with how hard he laughs, releasing Kurt’s arm to clutch his stomach. Kurt stares at him, completely nonplussed. “He’s not?”

“Oh my god, _no_.” Blaine wipes his eyes. “No! Sam is - Sam’s great, he’s my best friend, but he’s _so_ straight.”

“He is?” Kurt’s mouth falls open. “But he’s - he’s in a gay club. Wearing nothing but jeans and a neckerchief.”

“He used to be a model,” Blaine gasps in a breath, “Oh god, did you really think I was dancing with you like that right in front of my _boyfriend_?”

“I -” Kurt realises at that point just how stupid that would be. “I don’t think I thought at all, to be completely honest.”

“Okay, okay, okay.” Blaine steps in close, so they’re almost chest to chest. “Listen. I’m single. I’m gonna tell you that right now.”

“Oh!” Kurt feels relief flood every cell in his body. “I - well, me too.”

“Good to know,” Blaine says, smiling. His hand curls around Kurt’s. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, smiling widely right back, “Yeah, you can.”

And then he kisses Blaine.

It’s impulsive, and maybe a little stupid, and as he starts to lean in his brain tells him _woah woah woah you idiot, what are you doing_ \- but Blaine closes his eyes and tilts his head up, meeting him halfway. He releases Kurt’s hand to hold his face, and _god_ , Kurt has been waiting for this moment all damn evening. His hands come to rest on Blaine’s waist, pulling him in close, under the fabric of his jacket. Blaine tastes like artificial raspberry and rum and the sour bite of lime juice. His hands are wide and warm and so, so gentle as his thumb brushes over Kurt’s cheekbone, cradling his face like Kurt’s some precious thing that Blaine never wants to let go. Kurt’s heart feels like it’s swelled to the maximum size his chest could contain, like he could float right off the dancefloor into space with Blaine in his arms. 

When they break apart Blaine’s cheeks are flushed, his lipgloss slightly smeared, but he smiles up at Kurt like he’s watching the sun rise. “You have no idea how long I have been waiting for you to do that.”

Kurt laughs. “Then I better make up for lost time.”

And he kisses Blaine again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, i got really ill and spent like two days in bed and then wrote the rest of this chapter while feverish so if it sucks i'm really sorry. but at least they kissed!


	14. nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> brunch? brunch!

Blaine wakes up the next morning feeling like he got hit by a bike. Not a train, because he’s definitely woken up more hungover, but as he gets out of bed and drags his feet to the coffee machine he’s definitely… delicate. His head aches, but as he slides into a seat at his kitchen table the pain isn’t the thing at the front of his mind. No, that privilege is given to the warm look Kurt had given him at the end of the night as they parted ways, and the way Kurt had kissed him when they were alone. Blaine rests his head on his hand as his coffee brews, closing his eyes and remembering the way Kurt’s hands had settled on his waist, gripping gently.

He’s interrupted by the buzz of his phone across the room. Blaine groans, drags himself up to fetch it. He assumes it’s Tina checking in on the state of his hangover, so when it’s Kurt’s name that pops up on his screen Blaine nearly does a double take.

_Kurt (10:19AM)  
hey, i had a really great time last night :)_

Blaine replies so fast he nearly breaks his thumbnail typing.

_Blaine (10:20AM)  
Me too!_

He’s trying to figure out how to politely ask Kurt out on a date when another text arrives.

_ Kurt (10:21AM) _   
_feel like getting brunch? i know a really good breakfast place_

Blaine glances across to the mirror opposite his bed. His hair looks like a bird’s nest, there’s still glitter from the night before smeared on his face, and his knee is a little achy from all the dancing he did.

_Blaine (10:23AM)  
Yes! Where shall we meet?_

Kurt sends him the address of a diner in Soho. He suggests meeting at 12, which gives Blaine enough time to hop in the shower and pick out an adequate outfit. The day is overcast but not cold, so he throws on a light jacket as he leaves, checking his hair in his camera as the elevator descends.

It doesn’t take him too long to get there from his place, and swapping texts with Tina helps pass the time. As he heads down the sidewalk, he sees a familiar figure standing by a lamppost, head bent over his phone. Blaine smiles, recognising Kurt, and ups his pace a little.

“Hey,” he says, tugging his jacket to make sure it lies straight. “Looking for me?”

Kurt’s head snaps up and he gives Blaine a wide smile. “How’d you know?”

“Just a feeling,” Blaine says. Kurt laughs, pushes off the post and gestures to the diner. “Ready?”

“Sure,” Blaine says, and darts ahead to hold the door open for Kurt, this time. Kurt’s lips quirk into a smile. “Very chivalrous of you, Mr. Anderson.”

Blaine shrugs, a little bashful. “I try.”

“Well, I can tell you that you succeed,” Kurt says, a flirty edge to his voice. Blaine’s stomach is doing somersaults as they’re seated in a cosy booth, small enough that when he crosses his ankles his knee brushes Kurt’s.

“So,” he says, pulling a menu towards him, “What do you suggest?”

“Well, what do you like?” Kurt’s spare hand falls on the table between them as he runs a finger down the neat lines of text. “I’m a big fan of their pancakes, but I think this morning I’m feeling something a little greasier.”

“I’m pretty easy,” Blaine shrugs, “I like sweet and savoury. But you can never go wrong with pancakes, you’re right.

“They’re really good,” Kurt assures him, “Though, of course, I’m no food critic. I’m… just realising now that maybe I should have picked somewhere with a Michelin star.”

“Hey, I’ll eat McDonalds when I’m hungover like anyone else,” Blaine says, “But I am a pastry chef, so I’ll be judging these pancakes extra hard.”

“Do they count as pastry?” Kurt asks, tilting his head, and Blaine suddenly realises he doesn’t know how to categorise a pancake.

“Well, they’re - I mean, they’re baking, so -” Blaine sees the way Kurt’s starting to laugh, and ups his intensity. “You make them with a batter, and they have a rising agent - which makes them a cake, which makes them part of my repertoire!”

Kurt keeps laughing, shaking his head. “You could literally have said anything there and I’d have believed you, you know that, right?”

Blaine ducks his head, putting his face in his hands. “You’re going to realise just how much of a cake nerd I am soon.”

“Hey, as long as there’s no problem with you realising I’m a fashion nerd,” Kurt says, “I think we’ll be just fine.”

Blaine does get the pancakes. He’s had better - they’re a little thick, a little stodgy - but the company makes up for it. They talk way past the point where their plates are empty, flirting back and forth between loaded glances and the brush of their knees under the table. It’s easily the most fun Blaine’s had on a date in a long, long time, and before he can second guess himself he says so.

Kurt’s eyes widen as the word _date_ leaves his mouth, and Blaine immediately doubts himself. 

“If this is a date,” he says hastily, “Because if it’s not -”

“It’s a date,” Kurt interrupts, smiling widely, “Absolutely. One-hundred percent a date. I - honestly, I thought it was kind of obvious.”

Blaine smiles, a little embarrassed. “I just wanted to check.”

“Well, yes, it’s a date.” Kurt reaches across the table and takes his hand. “As long as that’s something you’re interested in.”

“Oh I’m interested,” Blaine says swiftly, holding onto Kurt’s hand tightly. “Very interested. As long as you still don’t think I’m dating Sam.”

Kurt groans, folding forwards and pressing his head onto the table. “Please tell me you didn’t tell him that.”

“Not yet,” Blaine teases, “But I can’t make you any promises.”

After brunch, Blaine asks if Kurt wants to go for a walk. He’s really taking any opportunity to spend time together at this point, and when their hands brush as they walk through a small park he gets _butterflies_ when Kurt intertwines their fingers. He feels like a teenager again, holding hands with a boy for the first time, giddy with anticipation of all that could come ahead. When they finally loop around and end at Blaine’s subway station, he doesn’t want to go home.

“I guess I’ll see you Monday,” Blaine says, unwilling to let go of Kurt’s hand. Kurt smiles. “I guess you will.”

“Okay,” Blaine says, ready to say goodbye, and then Kurt leans down and kisses him. Briefly but sweetly, his hand cupping Blaine’s jaw, and again he detects that citrusy-floral scent. It’s intoxicating, really, just like the kiss, and when Kurt withdraws Blaine has to blink himself back into reality a little.

“See you later,” Kurt says, and Blaine smiles at him like an idiot. “See you later.”

“I’ll text you,” Kurt speaks a little louder as Blaine starts to make his way down the steps, lifting his hand to his ear like he’s going to phone instead. It’s _really_ cute, and Blaine laughs as he waves. “I’ll be waiting!”

He texts Tina as he gets off the train near his place.

_Blaine (5:34PM)  
I think I might be in love._


	15. overwhelm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some thoughts at the end of a quiet evening.

It strikes Kurt, one quiet evening, how quickly Blaine has become an integral part of his life.

They’re spending the night at his place, reclined on the couch, and if Kurt were asked he’d probably justify it in multiple ways. His place is much closer to the office than Blaine’s, so it makes sense for them to stay there - it shortens Blaine’s commute, and he has an early call time the next day for some new show he’s shooting in the kitchen. Plus, it turns out Blaine’s favourite Italian restaurant is a few blocks away from Kurt’s place, so if they go out to eat after work, it’s only a short walk for coffee at his, and then from there… well. It just makes sense for Blaine to stay over. He could justify it as entirely logical, no feelings involved, just limiting emissions by cutting out the late night Ubers.

But that’s not completely true, because feelings are involved. Kurt doesn’t think he’s ever fallen for someone as fast as he’s fallen for Blaine. His… crush, infatuation, _whatever_ , has turned into something very serious very quickly. Something about the man is just - captivating, endearing, bewitching - there are so many words but none of them quite encompass the way Blaine’s smile makes Kurt feel. At points it almost feels overwhelming in its intensity, but not unpleasantly. The way Kurt’s heart feels as if it rises and swells when he looks at Blaine does nothing but make him smile. It’s been a matter of _months_ , yet it feels like he’s known Blaine for years. If he didn’t fear scaring him off - and if Blaine hadn’t been going back to Ohio - he would have asked to spend Thanksgiving together. But he didn’t, and they’ve just been… well. They’ve been seeing each other almost every day at work, getting dinner often, and for the past few weeks, staying over at each other’s places afterwards. Not to put a name on it, but Kurt’s pretty sure they’re dating. 

Tonight, they’re watching a baking show. It’s become one of Kurt’s favourite things to do with Blaine, because listening to him agonise about the bakes alongside the competitors is, to be succinct, adorable. Blaine’s leaned up against his side, picking at the popcorn Kurt’s just _happened_ to keep a stock of in his kitchen since he found out Blaine loves it, eyes fixed on the TV. 

Blaine’s head comes to rest on his shoulder, and Kurt absent-mindedly lifts his hand and sinks his fingers into his hair. Blaine usually keeps it neatly styled with what is probably a little too much gel, but now he’s showered it falls in slightly damp curls over his forehead. He looks… softer than he usually does, especially with his cheek squished against Kurt’s sweater. It makes Kurt want to hold him, tighter than he’s ever held anyone before.

“No!” Blaine says faintly as one of the contestants decides not to blind bake their pie crust, irritation clear in his eyes. Kurt snorts. Watching people bake with a professional  _pâtissier_ is endlessly amusing.

“What?” Blaine glances up at him, chewing his popcorn. Kurt can’t contain his smile, and Blaine’s confusion grows visibly. “What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing,” Kurt grins. Blaine’s eyebrows draw together as he swallows. “Are you laughing at me?”

“No!” Kurt says, “I’m not laughing at you, I’m just -”

“Laughing at me.” Blaine narrows his eyes, “Why?”

“No reason,” Kurt says, and kisses him so he doesn’t have to explain just how full his heart is. Blaine makes a startled noise in the back of his throat, but his lips curve into a smile as his arms come up to embrace Kurt. The show is quickly forgotten as hands slip under shirts, and Kurt can’t get over how he’s making out on the couch like a teenager, pulse pounding. Not that he ever made out with anyone when he was a teenager, but it’s the thought that counts.

The couch is just large enough for them to fall sideways, Kurt on top of Blaine as the popcorn bowl tumbles to the floor. Kurt spares a thought for his carpet, then decides he doesn’t care that much. Blaine, however, clearly cares far more, because he breaks away. “Kurt, the popcorn -”

“Fuck the popcorn,” Kurt says breathlessly, “I really don’t care.”

“But your carpet -” Blaine protests, turning his head, presumably to assess the damage. This only gives Kurt access to his throat, slightly rough with stubble, and he presses his lips to the angle of Blaine’s jaw.

“Gives me an excuse to hire a steam cleaner,” Kurt says, and he’s only half joking. Blaine whines, but his fingers in Kurt’s hair press him closer as he gasps out, “If you’re sure.”

“I’m so sure.” Kurt fumbles one-handed with the neat shoelace knot at the front of Blaine’s sweatpants. “I love any excuse to rent those things.”

Blaine’s reply is to kiss him, hard. Kurt kisses back, through the sweet-salty taste of popcorn until Blaine has to pull away to gulp in air. Kurt gives up on the knot and instead runs his hand down Blaine’s thigh, pulling it up around his hip -

And then Blaine yelps, distinctly in pain, not pleasure, and Kurt lets go immediately.

“Are you okay?” he asks urgently, “Did I hurt you?”

Blaine gestures towards his leg, face tense with pain, and Kurt realises his foot is caught between him and the couch. He pushes himself upright, over the arm, so Blaine can ease his foot out.

“I’m so sorry,” he says as Blaine massages his leg, “Are you okay? I didn’t realise I was leaning on you that hard.”

“No, it’s okay,” Blaine gives him a smile, but there are tears shining in his eyes. “I twisted my knee.”

“Oh, babe.” Kurt doesn’t notice the endearment slipping out until Blaine smiles faintly. “Babe?”

“I -”

“I’m fine,” Blaine replies, “I just... need a moment.”

“Of course.” Kurt glances over at the popcorn spilled across his floor. “I… should probably do something about that.”

“Yeah,” Blaine gets to his feet, walking gingerly, “I’ll be right back.”

Kurt’s midway through vacuuming the last of the kernels up when Blaine returns, looking back to normal but favouring his right leg ever so slightly. “You need a hand?”

“No, I’m good,” Kurt switches his handheld vacuum off and tilts his head. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Blaine smiles, but there’s something… off, about it.

“Wanna go to bed?” Kurt offers, even though it’s only 9:30. Something in the air has changed, the atmosphere no longer comfortable and easy but stilted. The apartment feels too small, and it’s a relief when Blaine nods.

Kurt showers before he gets into bed, and when he walks back into his bedroom Blaine seems to be asleep already. Kurt considers leaning over to kiss him on the cheek or tell him goodnight, but he can’t quite work up the courage. The few times they’ve gone to sleep together before, it’s always been - well. After working off excess energy, so this… oppressive, awkward silence is unusual for them. It makes Kurt uncomfortable, so he switches off his bedside light and lays down, staring up at the ceiling.

It takes him a long time to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHRISTMAS IS OVER! TIME FOR ANGST BITCH!


	16. quarrel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry this took so long. the chapter itself could have been longer but i figured you guys would just ah....want to read something.  
> also sorry in general, for this chapter :)

When Kurt wakes up the next morning, Blaine’s already in the kitchen getting ready to leave. As he stumbles in, half awake, Blaine kisses him on the cheek with his reusable coffee cup in one hand and his bag in the other. “See you at lunch?”

“Sure,” Kurt says blearily, barely able to compute what’s being said to him. “Have a good -”

The front door shuts.

“- day,” he finishes lamely.

When he checks his watch, it’s 7:28AM. Kurt knows Blaine’s call time wasn’t until eight thirty, and even on a bad day they’re not an hour from the offices. Blaine likes to leave early because he tends to run a little late getting distracted by bodega cats or getting coffee, but still. Leaving an hour for what’s usually a half hour journey? That’s a lot of bodega cats, or a lot of coffee.

Something’s wrong, Kurt knows it. He just doesn’t know what, and he doesn’t know if it’s his fault.

He texts Blaine on his way in.  _Good luck for your filming. Lunch at 12:30 like usual?_

The reply he receives is short, but not standoffish.

_Blaine (8:33AM)  
Thank you! Sounds good :) _

He’s sure Blaine’s already filming, so he tries not to look to heavily into it, but struggles to stay focused during the editors meeting at nine. It doesn’t get any easier when he gets another text on his way down to the cafeteria.

_Blaine (12:27)  
Filming has overrun, I can’t make it to lunch :(_

So Kurt eats his overpriced salad at his desk with one hand and answers emails on his phone with the other. Unique walks past just as he’s sadly cracking open his can of LaCroix, and does a double take as she meets his eye.

“The hell are you doing here?” she asks, pausing in the doorway of his office. Kurt looks up, chewing the last mouthful of arugula. “Huh?”

“You’re not with your baker boy?” she crosses the room to his desk. “Why do you look so miserable?”

“He cancelled,” Kurt says, trying not to betray just how disappointed he is, “Filming for his new series.”

“Ouch.” She sits on the edge of his desk. “Good night last night?”

“Not so much.” Kurt swivels in his chair to make doubly sure the rest of his office is empty. “We… well. I messed up somehow.”

“What? You jizz in his hair or something?”

“Ew, ‘Nique, no.” Kurt curls his lip in disgust as she laughs. “I don’t really know what happened. One second things were going great, the next I - he hurt his leg, and he’s totally different for the rest of the night.”

“Pain can kill the mood, you know.” She reaches out to ruffle his hair, and Kurt ducks it instinctively. “Don’t sweat it, Kurt. Just bring him flowers and rock his world tonight, and all will be forgiven.”

“Yeah, sure,” Kurt mutters as she blows him a kiss and continues on her way. “Flowers.”

He agonises about it all the way through until his coffee break at three, by which point he’s stressed enough to hop in the elevator down to the _Bon Appétit_ offices to talk to Blaine himself.

When he exits the lift, through some strike of luck Sam is stood right there, waiting for it to arrive. Kurt nearly walks right past him before doing a double take. “Wait - Sam?”

Sam pauses on his way into the elevator, hand held out to stop the doors from closing. “Oh, hey Kurt. You good?”

“Yeah, I’m just looking for Blaine, is he in there?” Kurt cranes his neck to see if he can spot Blaine in the offices. “I just need to talk to him.”

“Oh, shit, he didn’t tell you?”

Kurt pauses, turning on his heel to face Sam again. “Tell me what?”

“He went home.” Sam presses his lips together for a moment, like he’s trying to figure out what to say next. “He… wasn’t feeling too good.”

“Oh.” Kurt slumps. “No, he didn’t. Not feeling well? Like sick? Flu sick?”

“Yeah, flu sick.” Sam’s shifting nervously. “I really gotta…”

“Right, right.” Kurt gestures for him to go. “Thanks, Sam.”

“No problem, dude.” Sam gives him a thumbs up and ducks into the elevator. Kurt calls another one to take him back up to the Vogue offices, frustrated. Blaine hadn’t seemed ill the day before, but the flu can come on fast, so Kurt supposes it’s not completely out of the question. What he doesn’t understand is why Blaine wouldn’t drop him a text and let him know.

“Oh, Blaine,” he says out loud as the elevator begins to climb, “What’s up with you?”

Kurt justifies it as he walks back to his desk. Last time he had the flu he put his head on the kitchen table to rest his eyes as his coffee brewed and woke up with fever sweats two hours later to five missed calls from work. It’s not inconceivable that Blaine might have just forgotten to text him, or decided he’d do it when he got home and then passed out on the couch or something. _There’s no need to read into it so hard,_ he tells himself. _Calm down. Just be responsible._

So over the last two hours of his work day, Kurt formulates a plan. He doesn’t know if Blaine is the type of guy to suffer in silence or not, but he figures bringing a mini care package can’t hurt things. Plus, it gives him a chance to figure out whether he _really_ managed to screw up or not.

Kurt drops by a CVS before hopping on the C train to Brooklyn, picks up a couple packs of extra-strength cold-and-flu tablets, some throat lozenges and a box of tissues. Once he gets off the subway, he hits up the bodega a block from Blaine’s place and stocks up on chicken noodle soup, honey and several lemons. Adequately prepared, he hefts the paper bag of essentials and strides down the road towards Blaine’s apartment building, anxiety churning in his stomach. Arriving on the front stoop, he shuffles the bag in his arms until he can press the buzzer for Blaine’s apartment. He waits a moment, chewing his bottom lip nervously, until Blaine answers.

_ “Hello? _ ” 

His voice crackles over the intercom, and Kurt can’t tell whether that’s a sore throat or the bad connection. “Hey,” he says, leaning in to make sure he’s heard, “It’s me. Kurt. Just thought I’d drop by.”

“ _Oh_.” Blaine sounds startled and not especially excited. “ _Come on up_.”

The door clicks, and Kurt shoulders his way inside, waits impatiently for the elevator to take him up to Blaine’s second floor studio. As he heads down the hallway, his anxiety reaches a peak, his heart rate increasing as he comes level with Blaine’s door and reaches his hand out to knock.

He waits a moment before he hears the catch click and the door swings open. Blaine stands there, half hidden by the doorframe, surprise evident on his face. “Hey,” he says, “I… wasn’t expecting you.”

The first thing Kurt notices is that he looks… _fine._ His cheeks aren’t flushed with fever, his nose isn’t red and his eyes don’t have that dull glaze that tends to accompany those with the flu. In fact, he looks totally healthy, and the bag in Kurt’s arms starts to feel a little too heavy.

“I spoke to Sam,” he says faintly, “He said you had the flu. I figured I’d drop by with some stuff.” Kurt hefts the bag, unsure what else to say.

“Oh,” Blaine frowns, “I - huh. Sam said that?”

“Well, not in so many words.” Kurt shifts uncomfortably. “He actually said you weren’t feeling too great. I guess I kind of took the theme and ran with it.” He laughs awkwardly. Blaine does not.

“Ah.” Blaine glances over his shoulder and then shuffles backwards. “You should probably come in.”

“Are you sure?” Kurt glances down the hallway. “I don’t have to, I can just drop this off and -”

“No, Kurt, I insist.” Blaine pulls the door open further.

“Okay,” Kurt says, and squeezes past Blaine, into his apartment.

Blaine’s bag is on the floor by the entranceway, his coat tossed on top of it, but Kurt can’t see much else out of order. He turns to ask Blaine if it’s really okay, to assure him that he can leave, and then stops, his mouth falling open. 

Blaine leans on a crutch, his lips pressed into a thin line. He’s wearing sweats and a loose t-shirt, but Kurt can see something blocky and thick around his left knee.

“Oh,” Kurt says, “Shit.”

“I don’t know why Sam said I had the flu, I don’t.” Blaine leans on the crutch as he makes his way back towards the cluttered kitchen. “I’m sorry you came all the way down here for nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” Kurt follows him. “I… wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine.” He gives Kurt a tight smile. The silence stretches between them for ten, twenty seconds, until Kurt can’t stand it any more.

“Is that my fault?” he asks, gesturing at Blaine’s knee. “From last night?”

“No, I slipped in the kitchen today.” Blaine shrugs, leaning his weight on the kitchen counter, but his body language is tense. “Banged my knee up pretty bad. It… messed with an old injury. Long story.”

Kurt has so many questions he wants to ask, but he settles on one.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, dropping the bag onto Blaine’s kitchen table and stepping closer, “You could have gone to my place, I would have given you my keys. Saves you trekking all the way to Brooklyn.”

“Kurt, it’s fine -”

“It’s clearly not,” Kurt says desperately, “Blaine, what’s going on? Last night, and then today - have I done something wrong? Is that why you didn’t text me?”

“No, I just…” Blaine lets out a frustrated sigh. “I didn’t know if you’d come, and if you couldn’t I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Oh.” Kurt wants to reach out and touch his cheek, his shoulder, his elbow, but Blaine’s body language is so closed off he can’t. “You didn’t know if I’d come?”

“For something as stupid as a bad knee?” Blaine forces a laugh, but his eyes are shining and his voice is unsteady. “I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Blaine, we’re dating,” Kurt says before he can second guess himself. “That’s what people who are dating do. They care about each other. And if it’s so bad that you have to quit baking for a day to come home, it’s obviously not stupid. I know how much you love baking.”

This finally draws a smile from Blaine’s lips, and Kurt gives up on being restrained and rushes forward to hug him. Blaine jumps, but quickly wraps his arms around Kurt and squeezes him tightly.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Kurt says, “And keep the groceries.”

“For when I actually have the flu?” Blaine asks, and Kurt snorts. “Yeah, sure.”

He holds on for longer than is probably appropriate, Blaine’s face tucked against his neck. “I’m so glad we’re not fighting,” he says softly, “I don’t want to fight.”

Blaine lifts his head, a quizzical expression on his face. “We didn’t fight.”

“Okay, fine, I hate disagreeing.”

Blaine keeps giving him the look, but with an edge of irritation, now. 

“Can I call it a quarrel?”

Blaine’s eyes narrow into a glare.

“Misunderstanding?” Kurt says weakly, and then Blaine shakes his head and slides away, towards the bag of groceries. “You’re ridiculous. I ordered Chinese, but probably too much. Do you want to stay?”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, all the tension that had built up over the day finally draining out of him. “Yeah, I do.”


	17. reasonable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> time for a much delayed update and finally, some conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for discussion of a canonical gay bashing in this chapter, please message me on Twitter (@lesbiandva) or here if you want any further warnings/explanation before reading.

They’re cuddled up on the very small, slightly uncomfortable couch so that Blaine’s close enough to his coffee table to prop his leg up but Kurt’s not so close that his knees hit it. Kurt’s hand lays on his thigh, rubbing small circles with his thumb just above his brace as he scrolls through photos on his tablet. Blaine’s got Mary Berry’s new recipe book on his lap but he’s actually scrolling through Instagram on his phone, unable to focus on anything for longer than about three minutes.

Blaine really wasn’t expecting Kurt to show up at his apartment after his fall today, but he’s glad that he did. He’d felt so awkward after twisting his knee yesterday that he’d lain awake in bed for an hour trying to figure out how to talk to Kurt about it, only to roll over and realise that the other man was fast asleep. He slept fitfully and woke far earlier than he needed to and was so filled with anxious energy that he ended up leaving early rather than deliver the speech that he convinced himself was stupid. And obviously Kurt had been worried about him, but Blaine had been too afraid about his reaction to the whole sorry story behind his screwed up knee that he hadn’t even noticed.

But now he’s sat on the couch with the man he is dating, Kurt’s hand wide and warm on his thigh, and he’s apparently forgiven Blaine for being a kind of crappy boyfriend without even asking for an explanation.

He’s distracted by a sudden itch at the back of his knee. Blaine grimaces, unwilling to move and trying to ignore it, but he can’t, and after a few moments he decides that he doesn’t need the brace just to lounge on the couch, so he might as well take it off and get a few minutes respite.

Blaine hikes up the leg of his sweats and undoes the velcro of the brace, sighing in relief. It’s left red indentations around his kneecap and on his thigh and calf where the edges dig in, and he takes a moment to scratch the back of his knee as he tosses it onto the coffee table.

And then he notices the way Kurt is staring at the scar that runs neatly down the middle of his knee, his eyes wide. It suddenly strikes Blaine that despite seeing each other nude several times, Kurt must not have ever seen it - which is fair enough, Kurt probably has many a scar or mark on his body that Blaine’s never had a chance to see. The reaction is not unexpected, and for a moment Blaine waits for any one of a set of entirely reasonable questions - _how did you get that_ , maybe, or _when did that happen?_ But Kurt says nothing, his eyes filled with concern and Blaine ends up saying weakly, “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Which is a lie. It was exactly as bad as it looks. It looks like what it was - that fourteen year old Blaine, running with blood in his eyes and his heart in his throat, had fallen on a flight of concrete stairs outside his high school and dislocated his knee. It looks like three separate surgeries and months in a heavy brace and a year of physical therapy, even a decade and a half later.

“I didn’t think when you said an old injury -” Kurt says, and then cuts himself off. “Are you okay?”

Blaine nods as he rubs the marks left by his brace nervously, avoiding the dark purple bruise developing where he’d fallen. “When I say an old injury I mean…” he blows a curl out of his face, reluctantly turning his mind back. “It was my freshman year of high school. So it’s fourteen years.”

“Can I ask what happened?” Kurt’s eyes turn to his face, his tablet lying forgotten on the couch beside him. “If you don’t mind?”

Blaine tries to remember the whole speech he had planned for the night before, but he can’t remember it, so he just… talks.

“I was fourteen,” he says “I, uh… I had just come out, and my school was throwing a Sadie Hawkins dance, so I decided to ask the one out guy in my year to it. And, uh… well. Long story short, it didn’t go over well. We bailed early, me and him, we - we were actually going to get ice cream instead before someone dumped a drink on us, but… a couple of members of the lacrosse team cornered us outside.”

He sees Kurt’s face darken as he anticipates where the story is going, and looks away. “I… yeah. They beat the crap out of us. I got away, made a break for it, but I… tripped on the stairs. Twisted as I fell and hit my knee, knocked the joint out of place.”

Kurt flinches at that, grimacing in sympathy. “Oh my god, Blaine.”

“I think someone heard me yelling?” Blaine has to take a steadying breath. “I hit my head pretty hard going down and honestly, I don’t remember a lot of the next couple days. I went straight into surgery because they thought I busted the artery in my knee, which is this one.” He draws his finger down the six inch scar on his knee. “But after that, I was really in and out. I know I spent the night in the ICU because they were worried about a brain injury, but luckily that didn’t end up happening. After that, they had to wait a while for the swelling around my knee to go down once they reduced it before they could go in again and sort the ligament injuries.”

“Blaine,” Kurt says again, softer this time. He reaches out and cradles Blaine’s face, and his face is filled with compassion and tenderness. There are tears gathering on his lashes, washing all of the blue out of Kurt’s eyes until they’re a light gray. “God, Blaine, I didn’t - I didn’t know.”

“Because I didn’t tell you,” Blaine says, and feels himself start to tear up. “I don’t tell people about this, Kurt.”

“I shouldn’t have asked,” Kurt says, his fingertips stroking Blaine’s cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“If I didn’t want to tell you I wouldn’t have.” Blaine tilts his head into Kurt’s touch. “I’m just saying, this isn’t something I usually come out with on the first date.”

“Well that’s fair enough.” Kurt’s fingers gently trace his cheekbone. “Thank you. For telling me.”

“Thank you for listening,” Blaine smiles, and finds it comes easily.

“Are you sure I didn’t hurt you yesterday?” Kurt asks, his eyes turning back to Blaine’s knee. “That bruise looks… nasty.”

Blaine considers downplaying it, but decides not to. “I - I don’t… know? Some days my knee is worse than others, and today just happened to be one of those days. I don’t know if it was because I twisted it yesterday, but it probably didn’t help.”

“I’m sorry,” Kurt says, and then holds up a hand. “And before you try and wave it off, just accept the apology. It’s literally the least I can do.”

Blaine huffs, but does as he’s told. “Fine. But I’m not happy about it.”

“Oh, I couldn’t tell,” Kurt says sarcastically, but there’s no bite to it, just fondness. “I’m gonna break into the fortune cookies. You want one?”

Blaine nods, grateful for the change of subject, and catches the one that’s tossed at him from the pile on his coffee table, snaps it in half then pulls out the thin strip of paper.

 _Look up!_ it says, _something good is coming your way._

Blaine’s heart skips a beat, even though he knows fortune cookies have about as much credibility to them as asking a stranger on the street to read his palm. And still, he looks up at the man sat across from him who is reading his own fortune with furrowed brows.

“What’s yours say?” Blaine asks, ignoring the pounding of his heart in his chest.

“‘A closed mouth gathers no feet’,” Kurt announces, then crumples up the piece of paper and tosses it onto the coffee table. “Enlightening.”

Blaine laughs. “I don’t know, maybe you should take it on board. Unless that’s something you’re into.”

“My open mouth has many uses,” Kurt says, “But holding feet is not one, and I can assure you it has not and will _never_ be fit for that purpose.”

Blaine bursts out laughing at the sober expression on Kurt’s face, and loses his slip of paper to the mess of takeout boxes on the floor.

“Wait, I didn’t get to see yours!” Kurt starts to search for it, but quickly withdraws a hand covered in sweet and sour sauce. “What’d it say?”

“Nothing I didn’t already know,” Blaine smiles.

“Wow,” Kurt licks the sauce off the side of his hand. “Cryptic. I do love a man of mystery.”

“Good,” Blaine says, “Because I am _extremely_ mysterious.”

“Well, let’s not tell lies now,” Kurt mutters, and Blaine gasps in mock offense as Kurt reaches over for another cookie. He watches, still smiling like an idiot, as Kurt tosses the halves into the air and somehow manages to get both in his mouth, and thinks; _actually, I’m pretty sure that good thing has arrived._


	18. part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> clothes sharing, but make it high stakes.

Kurt doesn’t intend to stay the night, but by the time they’ve run out of steam to talk it’s nearly midnight. He starts making vague references to checking the night train is running, but before he can even get off the couch and find his jacket Blaine asks him to stay.

“If you want to,” he says, cheeks a little flushed, “I know I’m further from the office, but -”

“Yes,” Kurt says, barely giving it a second thought. “Yes. I’ll stay.”

The bed is cold, but as Blaine lays down beside him Kurt doesn’t even consider not moving closer. Blaine startles slightly at Kurt’s hand on his hip, but he looks over his shoulder and smiles as Kurt wraps an arm around his waist. It’s a little difficult to organise their legs with the pillow Blaine has under his knee but they manage it, adjusting little by little until Kurt’s face is pressed against his shoulder and they’re spooned together. Blaine’s fingers lace with his and squeeze before he leans over and turns off the light.

Kurt lies there, nose pressed against Blaine’s shoulder, eyes closed, and feels his heart pounding. It’s beating so hard he’s certain Blaine must be able to feel it through the fabric of his pajama shirt, but he just mumbles, “Sleep well.” Like he can’t sense Kurt’s heart swelling, full to burst with how much he cares about the man in his arms right now. 

“You too,” Kurt whispers. He holds Blaine close, and he knows, right then and there, that this man is so much more than just a date to him. His heart beats fast, and he thinks, _oh fuck. This is way more than just serious._

_This is love._

It feels like only moments since he fell asleep when the alarm wakes them, blaring Carly Rae Jepsen at what feels like the crack of dawn. Kurt groans, disorientated for a moment - the bed is too soft, the pillows smell different and there’s a weight on his chest - but then he remembers the night before, and going to sleep with Blaine in his arms.

“I’m just going to shower,” a voice whispers in his ear, and the weight on his chest lifts away. Kurt cracks open an eye and sees Blaine standing, wobbling a little and stabilising himself on his dresser on his way to the bathroom. He _knows_ he should get up, should shower and get breakfast because the commute will be a hell of a lot longer than he’s used to, but instead Kurt shuts his eyes. Just a few more minutes.

When he wakes again, it’s to the sound of the bathroom door opening. He sees Blaine cross the bedroom, a towel around his waist, and then rolls over to check the time. It’s 7am, which is just about the latest he can get up at Blaine’s without risking being late, so he forces himself to sit up and swing his legs out of bed.

“Hey,” Blaine says softly, crossing the room to kiss Kurt on the forehead. “Sleep okay?”

“Mm,” Kurt yawns, “Could have done with another couple hours.”

Blaine laughs, sitting down next to him. Kurt watches as he pulls on a brace different to what he’d worn the night before - thinner, closer to an ace bandage than the bulky one from yesterday.

“You okay today?” he asks, and Blaine nods. “Pain’s not as bad. I’ll take a Motrin and be fine.”

“Okay,” Kurt leans over, presses a kiss to his temple and stands. “You mind if I shower?”

“Go for it,” Blaine smiles up at him, “Help yourself to anything.”

The words _thank you, I love you_ , are on the tip of Kurt’s tongue, but instead he just gently strokes Blaine’s cheek and grabs a towel from the wardrobe on his way to the bathroom.

When he gets out, smelling of borrowed body wash, he realises that as great as it was to fall asleep with Blaine, he does not have any clothes to wear to work the next day. His pants are salvageable though he’d left them on the floor all night, but even if his button up wasn’t crumpled he’d get absolutely destroyed at work for wearing the same outfit two days in a row.

Blaine re-enters the bedroom with a cup of coffee in each hand to find Kurt staring hopelessly at his shirt, attempting to brush the wrinkles out.

“I have an iron,” he offers, holding out the coffee. Kurt takes it with a smile, dropping the shirt to the floor. “Showing up to work in a crumpled shirt is almost on the same level as repeating an outfit.”

“Inexcusable?” Blaine asks, and he laughs. “Pretty much. Don’t worry, I’ll just stop by my place and pick something else up.”

“Or borrow something,” Blaine says, leaning up against the doorframe. Kurt’s head snaps around, eyes widening. “Borrow something of yours?”

“Sure,” Blaine says, grinning, “Unless you think I’m not fashionable enough.”

“You have a timeless classic style that I would love to emulate,” Kurt says, “But, if you feel like lending me something, I wouldn’t say no.”

Their height difference is obvious, but Kurt doesn’t realise just how _compact_ Blaine is until he nearly busts a seam in the shoulder of one of his cute button ups after twisting to assess the outfit in the mirror. It would make Kurt feel self conscious about being a gangly-armed mess, but then Blaine rises on his toes as he skates his palms across Kurt’s shoulders in the striped sweater that _just_ fits and murmurs, “I like you in my clothes.”

“You can’t be mad if I tear a hole in this,” Kurt says, and Blaine laughs. “Somehow I think I’ll manage. I can’t remember the last time I wore it.”

“Well, that makes it mine now,” Kurt says decisively, even if the sleeves are a little short. The way Blaine looks at them in the mirror, a little starry-eyed, seals the deal right there and then.

By the time they’ve settled on a shirt they’re running late, so Kurt decides that he’ll just risk wearing the same pants and hope nobody notices. He’s just wishing that he hadn’t picked such an audacious pair of houndstooth patterned slacks yesterday. 

Blaine pushes another reusable cup into his hand on their way out of the door. It’s a Starbucks cup, one of the $2 ones they put in a pile in a basket in every store in the city, and Blaine looks a little ashamed as he pulls the door to his studio closed behind them. “I don’t have another one,” he explains as they head down the corridor, “It’s either that or you just finish your coffee out of the mug.”

Kurt is really just happy that Blaine even thought to transfer his half-drunk coffee to a takeaway cup, and he says so. Blaine smiles sweetly - so sweetly that it makes butterflies swoop in Kurt’s stomach - and tugs him down by the lapels of his coat for a kiss before the elevator _dings_ its arrival.

Luckily the MTA is running efficiently for once, so they actually don’t get in too late. Blaine’s been holding his hand since they came through the turnstiles, and it gives Kurt a little thrill to be walking into work hand-in-hand in clothes from the day before.

“Lunch at the usual time?” Blaine asks as they get into the elevator, squeezing in close to avoid knocking elbows with the other riders. Kurt grins. “As long as you can make time for me in your busy filming schedule.”

Blaine rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling. “I feel like I can squeeze you in.”

“Good,” Kurt says, and rubs his thumb across Blaine’s knuckles in return.

Blaine kisses him goodbye as the elevator doors open on his floor, brief and fleeting but enough to make Kurt’s heart leap. He almost doesn’t release Blaine’s hand, _almost_ lets himself get dragged out of the elevator after him into the _Bon Appétit_ offices because he doesn’t want to let go. Instead, he calls, “See you at lunch!” 

Blaine turns and smiles so brightly his eyes scrunch up. His reply is cut off by the doors closing, but Kurt grins like an idiot right up until his first meeting of the day. But still, he can barely focus on the actions of business that Isabelle lists, his mind wandering as he taps his pen on his notepad. All he can think about is Blaine. He actually completely zones out thinking about falling asleep with Blaine in his arms and is only brought back to the matter at hand when someone sneezes and startles him out of his thoughts. Luckily, they’re only a few minutes from the end of the meeting, so Kurt hastily scribbles down a few notes and then heads back to his desk before anyone can engage him in conversation. He’s already downed two cups of coffee since he woke up, but after five minutes of trying to answer emails he decides that a hot beverage of some sort is required to motivate him.

When Kurt walks into the break room Unique is there, chatting to the other fashion coordinator while waiting for the coffee pot to brew. She doesn’t notice him at first, which is a blessing, because if anyone is going to be aware of his outfit repeating it’s her, but as he pours hot water over his teabag he hears a familiar voice.

“New sweater?” Unique asks, sidling up behind him with her coffee in hand.

“Good morning to you too, Unique,” Kurt says politely, “And no, it’s not. I unearthed it from my wardrobe and thought it was cute.”

“The sleeves are a little short,” she points out, and Kurt sighs, turning to face her. “It’s from high school, I’m not surprised. I haven’t been this height since I was born, you know.”

She ignores his dig and gives him a once-over. “Same pants.”

 _Fuck_.

“Same what?” Kurt decides to play dumb, smliing at her sweetly. She doesn’t fall for it.

“Don’t bullshit me, Hummel, you’re wearing the same pants as yesterday.”

Kurt drops the smile and huffs. “I can’t wear the same pants and an old sweater? Geez, Unique -”

Her eyes widen suddenly. “Oh my god, you stayed the night last night, didn’t you!”

“ _Shh!”_ Kurt hisses hastily, flashing a smile over her shoulder at the two interns staring at them, “Can you please lower your voice?” It seems a little unbecoming for a senior editor to be loudly discussing his love life, especially when Unique insists on phrasing it all like Blaine’s some kind of booty call.

“So I guess the argument wasn’t that bad after all, huh?” she elbows him, nearly spilling his tea everywhere. Kurt knows he’s blushing when he mumbles, “I think we worked things out.”

“Good, I hate seeing you pine.” Her face softens. “You guys are okay now?”

Kurt can’t contain his smile as he thinks about that morning. “I think we’re better than okay. I think - okay, you have to promise not to laugh.”

She looks at him, expecting him to just continue without her assurance. When he doesn’t, she sighs, places her coffee on the counter and puts her hand over her heart. “I swear.”

“I think I’m in love with him.”

It feels a little thrilling to say out loud, and Kurt realises he’s smiling. Unique’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, holy shit. You’re serious.”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, like, _duh_ , and then “Wait, what do you mean?”

“You have told me that you love him _at_ least three times, usually when he’s brought you something to eat,” Unique says, feigning awe, “But I don’t see a cookie in your hand, so -”

“Okay, shut up,” Kurt rolls his eyes as he scoops the teabag out of his cup, his cheeks flushing again. “This is what I get for sharing, huh?”

“No, no, I’m kidding,” she pats his arm, “Things went _real_ well last night, huh?”

“You’re not getting details no matter how much you dig,” Kurt tells her, tossing the bag in the trash, “A gentleman never tells.”

“He makes you happy, right?”

The question catches Kurt off guard, expecting an innuendo or a dirty joke, but he answers immediately. “Yeah. He does.”

“Good,” she nods, “Because I can’t remember the last time I saw you this inattentive at work, and I want to make sure he’s worth it.”

Kurt gasps, insulted. “I am _not_ inattentive!”

“Eloise told me you were zoned out for half the meeting today, and I think last week was the first time I saw you leave the office before six _every day_ in years.”

Kurt starts to tell her she’s wrong, and then realises that actually, he is spending less time at work. Though, he does still take issue with the implication that he’s not working at _all_.

“I think,” he says diplomatically, “That I’m just more efficient in the time I have.”

“Sure,” she winks, “I gotta get back to work. You seeing him at lunch today?”

Kurt nods, and she pats his shoulder. “Give him my love. But not before you give him yours!”

The interns are definitely listening in, now, so Kurt picks up his cup and hustles back to his desk. As he sits down, his phone chirps, and he unlocks it as he takes a sip of his tea.

_Blaine (11:04)  
Guess what I’m making?_

There’s a photo attached, a close up of something pale and creamy. Kurt has no idea what it is, so he hazards a guess.

_Kurt (11:05)  
cupcakes??_

He manages to answer part of one email before Blaine replies.

_Blaine (11:08)  
Not quite. I’ll bring you some at lunch :-)_

_Kurt (11:08)  
can’t wait! meet you in your reception at 12 as usual?_

_Blaine (11:10)  
Absolutely _ _💕_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry. shit going on at work has drained my ability to write but hopefully i'll be able to finish this series soon!!  
> also, i messed up the prompt words and the days they came on, so this is a correction chapter. we're back to being alphabetical next time!


	19. speed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> blaine realises something, too.

Blaine’s second attempt at filming the first episode of  _ Baking Basics with Blaine _ goes much better than the first. Sam, the angel, piles everything that he was asked to order just beyond the view of the camera, so Blaine really only just has to stand at his station and have things slid to him across the countertop. The Motrin has kicked in and between that and his coffee, he pretty much flies through the morning until they break for lunch at 12:05 - at which point Blaine realises his phone is on silent in his pocket and he’s five minutes late to meet Kurt, so he literally flings his mic pack at the counter and dashes off while Tina is still filming. He’s certain that it’ll end up in the final cut with a cartoonish scrambling noise in the background but he can’t quite bring himself to care.

“Be back by one!” he hears the director, Leo, shout at him as he darts around the corner, and Blaine makes a vague sound in agreement as he grabs his wallet from his bag. There’s a text waiting on his phone from Kurt, just saying _outside :)_ , so Blaine stuffs it back in his pocket and heads out to the reception.

Kurt’s leaning up against the wall by the elevators, looking down at his phone, and Blaine’s heart leaps like it always does when he sees him. Kurt looks incredible in his sweater, filling it out in a way that’s really - doing _something_ to Blaine. He’s always had a thing for Kurt’s shoulders, for how broad and strong they are but seeing them in _his_ clothes, knowing that Kurt was in _his_ bed last night, well. It’s bringing up some truly inappropriate thoughts. And so when Kurt looks up and sees him, Blaine does something slightly out of character. He jogs the last few steps, reaches up and drags Kurt down into a kiss that’s probably a little too deep for being within view of his coworkers.

Kurt makes a little startled noise, but his hands find Blaine’s hips and pull him in, pressing forward so he’s bent back a little. It makes heat burn low in Blaine’s stomach, and he breaks the kiss only because if he doesn’t things will get very NSFW very quickly.

“Hey,” Kurt says, grinning at him, “Is that your apology for being late?”

“No, that was my greeting,” Blaine says, and kisses him again - softly, this time. “ _That_ is my apology for being late.”

“Apology accepted.” Kurt squeezes Blaine’s hips, which gets him thinking about how capable those hands are, and that’s a dangerous route to walk down. Luckily, Kurt’s already taking his hand and calling an elevator, so Blaine is happy just to be lead along, smiling as Kurt rubs his thumb over his knuckles. “How’s your knee?”

Blaine shakes his leg out as Kurt hits the button for the fourth floor. “The Motrin is working, it’s okay. I’ll take another after lunch.”

“You don’t need a fashionable assistant to fetch you things?” Kurt teases him gently, “I promise I’m very helpful. Good at mixing, great to look at, works well under pressure.”

“Well, if you’re offering,” Blaine teases back, “I’ll pay in sexual favours.”

“I - wh -” Kurt’s cheeks redden as he stammers, brain clearly short-circuiting, and Blaine laughs as the doors open. “That’s a joke, Kurt, I would pay you real money.”

“Oh, I’d take the sexual favours,” Kurt says, perhaps a little too loud as they pass a group of people waiting for the elevator, which just makes Blaine laugh more.

They each grab lunch, Blaine heading for the salad bar and Kurt following him until he realises the hot buffet is serving paninis and doing a quick 180 to grab one. They meet back up at the dessert bar, where Kurt regards the overpriced cupcakes with disdain while buying an equally overpriced pot of melon cubes.

“You know I can just order in melon and bring you some,” Blaine says, even though Sam cut him off from ordering watermelon the previous summer because he kept getting caught just eating it with a melon baller in the walk-in.

“Oh, my,” Kurt puts a hand to his chest as they wait to pay, “Not only do you supply me with baked goods, you offer me fresh fruit, too? You’re spoiling me, Blaine. I’m going to have to start stealing you Versace.”

Blaine snorts, because the idea of him attempting to emulate Kurt’s avant-garde sense of fashion is kind of wild. On Kurt, it looks sophisticated and sexy, but on him? Blaine’s not sure.

“What’s that face about?” Kurt asks, looking insulted, “You’re not into Versace?”

“No, no,” Blaine says hastily, “I just - you know, I don’t know if I could justify wearing a Versace sweater into the test kitchen when I spend most of my time working with dough.”

“Blaine, honey, I don’t care what you do to it as long as I get to see you wearing it,” Kurt says as he hands his card to the cashier. Blaine’s heart beats a little faster at the pet name, and he’s so busy smiling like an idiot, thinking that he’s _honey_ now, that he doesn’t even notice when Kurt pays for his lunch too.

They don’t manage to grab a booth, so instead Kurt scores them two seats at the end of a table mostly populated by conservatively-dressed suit-and-tie types. He drops a kiss on Blaine's cheek when he goes to grab them both water and cutlery, trailing his fingers over Blaine’s shoulder gently as he walks away, and it makes him feel like he’s walking on air.

“So,” Kurt says as he sits down again, handing over a knife and fork, “I had a thought.”

“Oh?” Blaine tilts his head, “What kind of thought?”

“Well, seeing as you so kindly hosted me last night,” Kurt smiles, “I was wondering if you wanted to stay over at mine tonight? Obviously we’re a little closer to the office, and I figured I could make you dinner seeing as you’ll have been filming all day. We can find something stupid to watch on Netflix, drink some wine, talk about how it’s nearly the weekend...”

The offer is incredibly sweet, but Blaine does feel a little guilty that Kurt has done so much for him over the past few days. It must show on his face, because Kurt immediately says, “Obviously, you would be in charge of bringing dessert and organising post-meal entertainment, to keep things fair.”

Blaine laughs, and the guilt dissipates. “I’d love that. As long as you also let me bring the wine.”

“Oh, well, if you insist,” Kurt sighs dramatically, “I’ll have to leave it to the man who works with a literal sommelier.”

“I’ll tell Wes you called him that and he’ll be very flattered,” Blaine says, because his boss has absolutely no wine-tasting qualifications, just an abnormally refined palate. Kurt looks very pleased at that, and turns the conversation to his plans for dinner. It’s very...domestic, and for a moment Blaine allows himself to indulge in the thought of this becoming his new normal. Of coming back home to Kurt every night, to an apartment they share. Of being loved, and loving in return.

_ Oh. _

**_ Oh. _ **

_ I love him _ .

_ I definitely, absolutely love this man. _

The thought takes Blaine a moment to process, his heart beating faster. He’s thought _I might be in love_ before about Kurt, but he’s also thought that a lot about a lot of different people, and the realisation that yeah - he has fallen, and he’s fallen hard, for this guy wearing his sweater eating a meatball panini across from him in a cafeteria - it makes his head spin.

And then Kurt says something about green olives being the worst kind of olive, and Blaine _can’t_ let that slide, so he stores those thoughts aside for another time when he can think about it properly and tries to explain how a properly seasoned and stuffed green olive can be delicious.

(Blaine considers it a win when he uses the phrase “oral experience” and Kurt starts laughing so hard he chokes on a cube of melon.)

The rest of the day speeds by as Blaine does what feels like a million variations on a yellow cake. He’s burned himself three times by the time he pulls the final cakes out of the oven at six fifteen, but as he talks about how incorporating beaten egg whites into the batter can save a recipe that keeps producing a gummy or dry cake he sees a familiar figure sidle into the test kitchen, leaning up against the cabinets at the far end in that coat that Blaine loves. He feels a grin spread across his face and barely manages to finish his sentence coherently before waving discreetly. He’s sure that Tina will have zoomed in on his face and edited heart eyes and a romantic soundtrack or something equally as ridiculous, but he actually welcomes it. It’ll probably make Kurt laugh to see just how happy he makes Blaine.

When he signs off with a cheery “See you next time on _Baking Basics with Blaine!_ ” Kurt actually applauds from the back of the room, smiling widely. Blaine laughs as he de-mics himself and Leo snaps the slate one last time, handing the mic pack over to Tina. “Is that a wrap?”

“That’s a wrap,” Leo gives him a thumbs up, “Second time’s the charm, everyone.”

“Is it okay if I -” Blaine jerks his thumb at the door, and his director nods. “No problem.”

“Okey-doke,” Blaine chirps, pulling off his apron, “One second.”

He grabs their dessert - a spiced honey cake which isn’t strictly a yellow cake any more, but it’s one of his favourites so Leo said he could put it in the video - and meets Kurt halfway across the kitchen, still smiling widely. “Hey, stranger.”

“Hey there.” Kurt gestures over his shoulder. “Sam said I was okay to come in, is that - did I interrupt?”

“No, not at all, we just wrapped,” Blaine glances over his shoulder and then presses the loaf cake into Kurt’s hands. “This is dessert, and if you give me twenty minutes I’ll be ready and we can go?”

“Sure, babe,” Kurt leans down and pecks him on the cheek, “I’ll be here.”

Blaine squeezes his elbow in reply and head back to his station to help clean up. It doesn’t take them long - Blaine has always been pretty proud of keeping his workspace tidy, and seeing as they were really just waiting for the cakes to come out of the oven there’s not a stack of dirty dishes waiting.

“We’ll film icing tomorrow,” Leo says as Blaine stores the rest of his assorted cakes and cupcakes away and wipes the counter down for the last time. “Sound good?”

“Perfect.” Blaine glances around. “Do you need -”

“Go home, Blaine,” Leo laughs, “Get off your leg for a while, eat some cake, and we’ll do it all again tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Blaine starts to back off, “Are you sure?”

“Go!” he hears Tina yell from where she’s putting away the camera, “Before he changes his mind!”

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Kurt’s waiting patiently for him by Sam’s desk, coat over his arm and the cake cradled in his arm like a baby. “Ready?” he asks, and Blaine nods, reaching for his coat. “Ready.”

Kurt lets Blaine lean on him on their way home. He’s starting to feel the effect of standing on it all day, and the Motrin has well and truly worn off by the time he limps up to Kurt’s apartment door.

“You sit down while I get dinner going,” Kurt says as he takes off his shoes, “You’re on music duty.”

“That I can do,” Blaine says, smiling. He starts to kneel to untie his shoelaces but his knee is too stiff, and bending it that far hurts, so he tries to lever his sneakers off, but before he can get too far Kurt drops to his knees in front of Blaine.

“Oh -” Blaine’s throat closes up at the gesture. “Kurt, I -”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kurt hums, picking open the tight knot Blaine ties to stop the laces unravelling as he walks around all day, “I’ve been on my knees for far weirder reasons.”

Blaine says it before he even thinks.

“Kurt, I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so my work made me very sad and then coronavirus happened but now i'm better and i'm going to try and FINALLY finish this au!!! wow thank you for being so patient. the reason this chapter is left on a cliffhanger is to physically force me to write the next chapter faster because i hate cliffhangers so let's hope that works!! love y'all stay safe and stay inside.


	20. treat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more talking, more food, and a suggestion.

“Kurt, I love you.”

Kurt’s head snaps up at the words, his heart rate accelerating. Blaine looks just as startled as he feels, his eyes wide and his voice catching in his throat as he begins to stammer “I - Kurt, I -”

Kurt stands so fast he gets a head rush, crowding into Blaine’s space and taking his face in his hands to kiss him. Blaine’s arms wrap around his waist and pull him even closer, so they’re pressed together from thigh to chest, fisting his hands in the back of Kurt’s sweater so he couldn’t move even if he wanted to.

“I love you too,” he gasps once they part, “Oh, Blaine, I can’t believe you just - I had a whole plan.”

Blaine blinks up at him, confusion clouding his expression. “A plan?”

“I was going to make you dinner and tell you.” Kurt laughs, shaking his head, “I had a whole speech planned and everything, and you… _God._ You’re just… Wow.”

Blaine’s hands press against the small of Kurt’s back. “Say it again,” he says softly, eyes like molten gold, sparkling with joy, “One more time.”

“I love you, Blaine.” Kurt brushes his thumb across Blaine’s cheek, unable to stop smiling, “God, do I love you.”

Blaine kisses him this time, sweetly and softly. “Sorry for ruining your plan.”

“Oh, fuck the plan,” Kurt laughs, “I much prefer this outcome.”

The plan - now entirely irrelevant, of course - was to simultaneously treat Blaine and flex his culinary skills by making fettucine alfredo, which was something he had mentioned several weeks ago as one of his favourite comfort meals. It’s also something Kurt knows he has all of the ingredients for in his apartment, as well as the components of a nice side salad if he’s lucky.

So he gets to work on grating cheese while Blaine pours drinks and makes a playlist called _evenings with Kurt_. He’s busy stirring the sauce with one hand while drinking wine with the other when he hears, “Smile!”

Kurt glances over his shoulder to see Blaine holding his phone up. He’s grinning widely, and that’s what makes Kurt smile back as he hears the _click_ of the camera. “What’s that for?”

“Instagram,” Blaine says, “For posterity’s sake, so people know my boyfriend can cook as well as me.”

“I don’t know if being able to make fettucine alfredo makes me a good cook,” Kurt says doubtfully, “It’s just pasta and cheese.”

“The fact that you haven’t tried to put any kind of cream in it tells me otherwise.” Blaine types as he speaks. “Do you know how many people think fettuccine alfredo has to have cream? I once watched a chef use _clotted cream_ \- do you know how hard it is to get real clotted cream in New York? And he used it in an _alfredo sauce_ , I mean - I still have nightmares.”

Kurt laughs at the sheer disgust on Blaine’s face. “I don’t know if I can take credit for that, babe.”

“Why?” Blaine puts his phone down. “Who taught you to make it?”

Kurt lifts his own phone, screen facing Blaine. “Only the finest.”

Blaine lets out a startled laugh, presumably as he sees the logo of his own workplace. “For real?”

“Why would I look anywhere else?” Kurt shrugs, “I am nothing if not loyal, Blaine, you should know this about me.”

“Oh, I know,” Blaine says, with such warmth in his eyes and fondness in his smile that Kurt forgets what he’s doing for a moment and nearly pours his wine into their pasta.

He checks Instagram a little later, as Blaine is laying the table and he’s melting the cheese into the sauce. Photo-Kurt is slightly blurry, mid-motion as the picture was being taken, but he’s smiling and his hair is only a little messy, so he doesn’t need to campaign for Blaine to take it down. The caption reads _he knows the way to my heart is a good alfredo_ , followed by several hearts and the spaghetti emoji, but the thing that really strikes Kurt is the comments. 

Obviously he knows Blaine has a dedicated following of amateur bakers as well as a good number of people who appreciate a man who can look sexy coated in flour, but the first thing he sees is someone mourning the fact that Blaine will never date them. Kurt checks their profile, and not only does she live in Washington, she must have missed the rainbow flag in Blaine’s description because… well. Even if he weren’t in the picture, she still wouldn’t have a chance.

“Don’t read the comments,” Blaine says, appearing behind him and making him jump, “You’ll just get jealous.”

Kurt attempts to feign insult, wrapping his spare arm around Blaine’s waist and pulling him in while keeping the sauce moving. “Jealous? Me? I’m not jealous. In fact, reading how many people are of _me_ is a poignant reminder of just how lucky I am.”

“Only you could make my Instagram comment section romantic,” Blaine says, “But seriously, don’t read them. One time someone said that they hated the way I sang in the background of test kitchen videos and I cried.”

Kurt is instantly incensed, dropping his whisk to hold Blaine properly. “They _what?_ ”

“To be fair - don’t forget the sauce - to be fair I was having a bad week and I read it immediately after watching a sad dog video on Facebook so - Kurt, it’s going to burn -”

Kurt nearly drops his wine glass in his haste to turn back to the alfredo sauce and start stirring again, and Blaine squeezes his shoulder in comfort. “I got over it, honey. You don’t need to hunt them down and make them apologise.”

“If you say so,” Kurt says, remaining unconvinced as he adds the last of the cheese, “But I make no promises should they suddenly show up at the office.”

“Oh, I’ll definitely let you know if I recognise someone who commented anonymously on a photo a year ago. Number one on my priorities list, trust me.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, but still leans sideways so Blaine can kiss his cheek. He’s not a _monster_.

The dish is just as good as he hoped it would be, and Blaine insists on taking several photos to show the rest of the test kitchen the next day. They pile the dishes in the sink and move to the couch to eat dessert, which immediately makes Kurt nervous because the last time they were on that couch things didn’t end well. Logically, he knows while sitting still he has a near-zero chance of injuring his boyfriend, and yet. He still worries.

Blaine doesn’t seem to have the same concern, because as soon as they’re seated he swings his legs up to rest on Kurt’s thighs with a smile. Kurt smiles back, and tries to hide his anxiety with a bite of cake. This works purely because the cake is so good that his whole brain turns immediately towards consuming it as fast and as efficiently as possible.

“It’s good, then?” Blaine asks, clearly amused as Kurt shovels forkfuls into his mouth, pausing only to nod. The cake is light and fluffy with just a hint of spice, and it’s so far from what Kurt expected when Blaine had said he was bringing a variation on a yellow cake for dessert.

“This is amazing.” He cups a hand over his mouth so he doesn’t spray crumbs everywhere. “Oh my god, Blaine, how is everything you bake so good?”

Blaine smiles bashfully like he always does when he’s paid a compliment. “Well, I try. It’s adapted from one of my gram’s old recipes.”

“Thank god for Grandma Anderson, then,” Kurt says, “You’ll have to give me this recipe before we head back to Ohio.”

“Ohio?” Blaine’s brow creases in confusion, “What for?”

“For Christmas?” Kurt clarifies, “Are you not going back home?”

“Oh, no,” Blaine looks a little sad, “I, uh, I would be, but my mom and brother booked onto a Caribbean cruise, so there’s no one for me to go back for.”

“You’re not going with them?” Kurt leans sideways to put his empty plate down on the coffee table. “It sounds like fun.”

“I hate cruise ships.” Blaine shakes his head. “Bad experience as a kid, going near them gives me awful anxiety - and one of my mom’s friends just got divorced, so I offered her my ticket. Plus, they’re _terrible_ for the environment.”

Kurt would usually smile at that, but he’s too stuck on Blaine being alone for Christmas. “You’re not going to your dad’s?”

“Oh, I’d rather die.” Blaine laughs, but it’s humourless. “No, I’ll probably be in New York for the big day. I think Tina and Sam might join me for New Years, but I’m not sure.”

“Alone?” Kurt presses, “You’re spending Christmas alone?”

Blaine eyes him. “I’ve done it before. It’s not as sad as it sounds. It’s actually kind of fun sometimes. Plus, I’ll probably celebrate properly with Mom and Coop in January, so it’s not like I’m missing Christmas completely.”

“But -” Kurt stutters, “But you - you love Christmas, Blaine, you can’t spend it alone.”

“Well, you can facetime me from Ohio or something,” Blaine shrugs, “It’s okay, Kurt, I don’t mind. I spent Thanksgiving in Ohio, so it’s not like they’re neglecting their familial duties.”

Kurt grumbles at that, still not willing to give up. He could leave New York a little late and spend some of the holiday with Blaine before going back to Ohio, or -

 _Or_.

Or Blaine could just come to Ohio with him.

 _Kurt Hummel, you are a genius_.

“Why don’t you come spend Christmas with my family?”

“What?” Blaine’s eyes widen, “Are you serious?”

“Yeah!” Kurt says, already imagining introducing Blaine to his childhood kitchen, “Then you don’t even need to give me the recipe, we can just make it together.”

“Wait, wait, forget the cake - you want me to meet your parents?” Blaine looks completely dumbfounded by the offer. “Over _Christmas?_ ”

“Well, I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t,” Kurt says slowly. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I just thought… well. I don’t know exactly what I was thinking, apart from that I want you to be there.”

“But - have you even asked them already? Kurt, I really can’t just waltz into your family’s house with no warning -”

“Blaine, it’s fine, just -”

“Do they even - wait, do they know we’re an item? Because that only happened recently, you know, and I don’t want to spring that on them over Christmas dinner, that would be rude - oh, god, do they even know I exist? Please tell me they know I exist -”

“Blaine,” Kurt says firmly, leaning forward and taking Blaine’s face in his hands. “Take a deep breath.”

(Blaine takes a bite of cake instead, chewing nervously.)

“Of course my parents know you exist,” Kurt says softly, “Of course they do. Blaine, I don’t want you to feel like you have to, I just… I want you to meet my family, and I want them to meet you, because I love both of you. And I don’t like thinking about you all alone over Christmas.”

Blaine finally smiles, his eyes shining a little with unshed tears. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“You baked me cookies,” Kurt says, and kisses him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now we finally get to the christmas part of the fic! in april!


End file.
